American  jpaturc 

Group  IV.     Working  with  Nature 


NATURE  AND   HEALTH 


A  Popular   Treatise  on  the  Hygiene  of  the 
Person  and  the  Home 


BY 


EDWARD  CURTIS,  AM.,  M.D. 

Emeritus  Professor  of  Materia  Medico  and  Therapeutics 
Columbia   University,  New   York 


Nature  is  always  wise  in  every  part 

Lord  Thurlow 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 
1909 


Copyright,  1906 

BY 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

Published  February    1906 


PREFACE 

MAN  is  master  by  reason  of  his  intellect. 
Having  tasted  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,  he 
should  so  order  his  life  that  it  may  yield  its 
full  fruition.  And  with  ever-widening  enlighten- 
ment come  larger  possibilities  of  such  ordering — 
possibilities  of  culling  from  every  experience, 
civilized  or  savage,  ways  that  are  wise,  and  of 
casting  forth,  no  matter  when  or  whence  derived, 
those  that  are  mischievous. 

Sanitation  steadily  improves  the  human  race. 
The  armor  of  the  mediasval  ancestor  gapes  at 
every  joint  on  the  sturdier  frame  of  the  athlete 
descendant  of  to-day,  and  modern  mortuary 
lists  make  a  far  better  showing  of  the  duration  of 
life  than  do  the  tablets  of  old.  The  son  of  civili- 
zation, if  he  live  simply  and  wisely  after  nature's 
lead,  surpasses  his  savage  brother  physically  as  well 
as  mentally,  overmastering  him  in  strength,  and 
outvying  him  in  endurance  and  in  number  of  days. 

This  book  has  been  written  in  great  part  out- 
of-doors.  Thought  out  under  the  open  sky,  it 
has  been  committed  to  paper  by  the  wayside,  on 
knee  or  on  the  flat  tops  of  fences.  Brought 

iii 

2051810 


iv  Preface 

forth  in  such  fashion,  it  is  offered  not  as  learn- 
ing, but  as  a  lure — a  lure  for  the  wise  living  that 
shall  gain  from  goddess  fairer  than  Hera,  than 
Athene,  or  than  Aphrodite  herself,  that  gift, 
all  Hygieia's  own,  the  priceless  boon  of  health, 
happiness,  and  the  usefulness  of  years. 

E.G. 

33  West  Sixty-ninth  St.,  New  York 
February  ai,  1905 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I.— BREATHING 

PAGE 

General  considerations — Products  of  exhalation — Car- 
bon dioxide — Organic  effluvium — Breath-poisoning 
— Scope  of  ventilation — Removal  of  organic  efflu- 
vium— Considerations  bearing  on  ventilation — Physi- 
cal properties  of  air — Air-space  per  occupant  of  a 
room — Open  doors — Principles  of  house-ventilation — 
Outlets  for  air — Fireplaces — Gas-logs — Intakes  for 
fresh  air — The  furnace — Windows — Window-ventila- 
ators — House-warming — The  open  fire — The  hot-air 
furnace — Hot-water  pipes — Steam-pipes — The  Indi- 
rect method — Direct-indirect  method — "  Night  air  " — 
Malaria — The  Anopheles  mosquito — Hygiene  of  the 
breathing-organs — Nose-breathing  and  mouth-breath- 
ing— Catarrh — Artificial  respiration— Singing i 

CHAPTER  II— EATING 

The  nutritive  principles  of  food,  or  "  foodstuffs  " — 
The  story  of  nutrition — Tissue-building  and  renewal — 
Evolution  of  energy — "  Circulating  proteid  " — 
Body-fat — The  making  good  of  direct  losses  of  sub- 
stance— Summary  of  the  items  of  nutrition — Alimen- 
tation :  side-issues  affecting  the  foodstuffs — Proteids — 
Albuminoids — Fats — Sugars  and  starches — Aliment- 
tary  errors — Supposed  need  of  much  animal  food  in 
hard  labor — The  Liebig  theory  of  nutrition  — 
Meat-allowance  in  overwork — Underfeeding — Over- 
feeding— The  middle  line — Frugality — Examples — 
Professor  Chittenden's  experiments — Proper  fru- 


vi  Contents 

PAGB 

gality — Reduction  of  proteid  allowance — Vegetable 
diet  —  Conditions  modifying  food-requirements  — 
Mastication — Care  of  the  teeth — Number  of  meals 
and  times  for  eating — Considerations  in  the  choice 
of  foods — Fastidiousness — Idiosyncrasy — Considera- 
tions in  the  making  up  of  dietaries — Condensed  foods — 
The  meal  as  a  ceremony — Hygienic  points  concern- 
ing the  several  common  articles  of  food — Animal 
foods — Butcher's  meats — Other  animal  foods — Gela- 
tin— Milk — Cream — Skim-milk  and  buttermilk — Con- 
densed milk  —  Koumyss  —  Matzoon  —  Butter  —  Mar- 
garin — Cheese — Egg — Vegetable  foods — The  cereals — 
Bread — Biscuits — Buckwheat — The  pulses — Tuberous 
roots — Potato — Other  tubers — Leaves  and  stalks — 
Fruits — Tomato — Nuts — Fungi — Sago,  tapioca  and 
arrowroot — Sugar — Honey — Chocolate 39 


CHAPTER  III.— DRINKING 

General  considerations — Aerated  waters — Constituents 
of  natural  waters — Salts — Mud — Living  organisms — 
Contaminating  organic  matters — Danger  of  wells — 
Purification  of  drinking  water — Subsidence  by  stand- 
ing— Aeration — Freezing — Rainwater — Boiling — Dis- 
tillation— Filtration — The  Pasteur-Chamberland  fil- 
ter—  Chemical  disinfection — Dosing  with  liquor 115 

CHAPTER  IV.— DRUGGING  FOR  DELECTATION 

General  considerations — Effects  of  habitual  indulgence — 
Quitting  of  a  drug-habit — Alcohol — Alcoholic  bever- 
ages— Ardent  spirits — Liqueurs — Wines — Cider  and 
perry — Malt  liquors — Tobacco — Tea  and  coffee — 
Cocoa — Hemp,  morphine,  cocaine,  ether  and  chlo- 
roform   130 


Contents  vii 

CHAPTER  V— SEEING 

PAGB 

Artificial  illumination — Quantity — Vitiation  of  air  by 
lights — Nearness  of  the  light — Quality — Diffusion  of 
of  the  light — Position  of  the  light — Steadiness — 
Color — Practical  lighting — The  eye — Glasses — Pres- 
byopia— Myopia — Hyperopia  and  eye-strain — Astig- 
matism— Bifocal  glasses — Periodical  examination  of 
the  eyesight  and  signs  of  refractive  trouble — Care  of 
the  eyes — School  conditions — Inflamed  eyes — Motes 
in  the  eye 161 

CHAPTER    VI.— HEARING 

Din — Hardened  wax — Insects  in  the  ear — Earache — 
Discharge  from  the  ear — Nasal  douches — The  wear- 
ing of  cotton  in  the  ear — Piercing  the  ears — Boxing 
and  kissing  on  the  ear — Lifting  by  the  ears — Frost- 
bite of  the  ear — Effect  of  diving  on  the  ear 185 

CHAPTER  VII.— CLOTHING 

Underwear — Wool — Nightwear — Warmth- value  of  cloth- 
ing— Color  of  clothing — Thickness  of  clothing — 
Shirts —  Trousers —  Hats —  Shoes —  Overshoes  —  Cor- 
sets— Considerations  of  fashion 191 

CHAPTER  VIII.— BATHING 

Daily  bath — Russian  bath — Turkish  bath — Sea-bath — 
Soap — Chapping  of  the  hands. — Toilet  of  the  hair 
and  scalp — Baldness — Bleaching  and  dyeing  of  the 
hair 204 

CHAPTER   IX.— DISPOSING   OF    WASTE 

General  considerations — Nature's  methods — Action  of 
bacteria — Putrefaction  —  Disease-germs  —  Principles 


viii  Contents 


of  proper  scheme  for  the  disposal  of  waste  —  Practical 
house-drainage  —  Practical  sewerage  —  Surface-irriga- 
gation  —  Sub-surface  i  rrigation  —  Earth-closets  —  Cess- 
pools and  other  vaults  —  The  function  of  the  bowels  — 
Disposal  of  garbage  —  Disposal  of  ashes  —  Disposal  of 
the  dead  —  Interment  —  Cremation  .......  .  211 


CHAPTER  X.— DISINFECTING 

General  considerations — Fresh  air  and  sunshine —  Heat — 
Formaldehyde — Sulphur  dioxide —  Chlorine — Mercuric 
chloride — Carbolic  acid — Chlorinated  preparations — 
Potassium  permanganate — Cupric  sulphate — Lime — 
Application   of  disinfectants — Disinfecting  proper — 
Deodorizing 235 


CHAPTER  XI.— EXERCISING  THE  BODY 

General  considerations —  Sparring — Fencing — Tennis — 
Golf — Horseback-riding — Cycling — Walking  and  run- 
ning— Skating — Rowing  and  paddling — Swimming — 
Home-gymnastics — Massage — Carriage    of   body  and 
method   of  breathing — Protruding     paunch — Excuses 
for  not  exercising — Supposed  incompatibility  of  devel- 
opment between  brain  and  muscle — Working  list  of 
movement-exercises  for  home-gymnastics 250 


CHAPTER  XII.— EXERCISING  THE   MIND 

Perception —  Reasoning —  Imagination  —  Will  —  Mem- 
ory— Mental  attitude — Passion 274 


CHAPTER  XIII.— SLEEPING  AND  WAKING 

Variability  of  need  for  sleep — Sleeping  by  night  and  by 
day — Sleeplessness — Waking 293 


Contents  ix 


CHAPTER  XIV.— WORKING  AND   PLAYING 

PAG8 

Need  of  working — Thoroughness  of  working  and  its 
requirements — Need  of  playing — Relation  of  play- 
ing to  working — Play  for  the  brain- worker 298 

CHAPTER  XV.— LIVING  AND   DYING 

Scheme  of  life  and  death — Avoidance  of  disease — Care 
of  old  age — Natural  death — "  The  Silent  Summoner  "  303 


CHAPTER  I 
BREATHING 

Away  to  the  window  I  flew  like  a  flash, 
Tore  open  the  shutter  and  threw  up  the  sash 

— CLEMENT  C.  MOORE 

"THERE  is  a  draught  here;  I  feel  it  on  my 
neck;  close  that  window!" 

Why  not  put  it  thus : — 

"Life  is  at  the  lattice;  he  blows  a  soft  kiss 
upon  my  cheek.  Shut  him  out!" 

We  feed  the  stomach  three  times  a  day,  but 
feed  the  lungs  five  times  as  often  every  minute. 
We  are  dainty  to  a  nicety  about  our  stomach- 
food,  but,  for  lung-food,  will  complacently  con- 
sume stuff  that  already  has  passed  in  and  out 
of  other  lungs  over  and  over  again,  merely  re- 
marking, "The  air  is  quite  close  in  this  room." 

In  inhalation,  the  lungs  absorb  from  the  air 
its  active  principle,  oxygen;  in  exhalation,  they 
give  out,  besides  water,  the  effete  gas,  carbon 
dioxide  ("carbonic-acid  gas"),  together  with 
fine  particles  of  an  organic  excrementitious 
substance.  Carbon  dioxide,  or  "fixed  air",  as 
it  formerly  was  called,  is  the  gas  of  efferves- 
cence of  soda-water  or  of  champagne.  It  is 


2  Breathing 

a  true  gas,  colorless,  odorless  and  tasteless,  and 
obeys  the  law  of  gases,  of  diffusing  quickly  and 
evenly  throughout  the  body  of  any  other  gas 
with  which  it  may  come  into  open  contact.  On 
this  point  there  is  much  popular  misunderstand- 
ing, and  because  carbon  dioxide  is  considerably 
heavier  than  air,  the  notion  prevails  that  the 
gas,  when  discharged  into  air,  sinks  by  reason  of 
its  weight,  so  that  the  lower  layers  of  air  in  an 
inhabited  room  are  more  highly  charged  with 
the  impregnating  gas  than  the  upper.  Such  is 
not  at  all  the  case.  If  the  metaphor  may  be 
allowed,  the  passion  of  gases  for  the  waltz  of 
the  molecules  is  always  so  intense  that  any  two 
of  these  intangible  spirits  meeting  will  at  once 
join  in  dance  on  equal  footing,  though  the  one 
be  as  light  as  Ariel  and  the  other  as  cloddish  as 
Caliban.  If  an  uncorked  bottle  of  that  lightest 
of  gases,  hydrogen,  be  inverted  over  one  of 
heavy  carbon  dioxide,  after  awhile  both  bottles 
will  be  filled  with  a  uniform  mixture  of  the  two 
gases.  The  light  hydrogen  has  waltzed  down- 
ward and  the  heavy  carbon  dioxide  upward,  all 
to  satisfy  the  passion  for  the  dance.  Accord- 
ingly there  is  no  danger  of  carbon-dioxide  poison- 
ing in  sleeping  near  to  the  floor,  nor  is  a  dog 
overcome  any  quicker  than  a  man  on  entering  a 
mephitic  cave. 

Although  deadly  in  strong  charge,  carbon  di- 
oxide is  by  no  means  so  poisonous  as  many  sup- 
pose, and  is  not  what  gives  to  exhaled  air  its 


Breathing  3 

noisome  properties.  By  itself,  the  gas  is  neither 
unpleasant  nor  harmful  even  when  impregnating 
air  in  more  than  ten  times  the  proportion  in 
which  it  occurs  in  rooms  that  may  be  foul  from 
overbreathing.  Carbon  dioxide  is  a  normal  con- 
stituent of  the  atmosphere  to  the  extent  of  four 
parts  to  ten  thousand.  But  in  soda-water  facto- 
ries, where  the  air  is  necessarily  highly  charged 
with  the  gas,  the  proportion  may  reach  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  and  upward  to  the  ten  thousand, 
without  causing  distress  or  even  discomfort.  In 
fact,  in  such  case,  the  impregnation  is  hardly 
appreciable  by  the  senses  at  all.  Yet  air  vitiated 
by  breaths  begins  to  acquire  an  odor  when  the 
carbon-dioxide  proportion  measures  six  to  the 
ten  thousand,  and  is  oppressively  close  when  the 
figure  for  the  same  reaches  eight. 

It  is  the  organic  product  of  exhalation  that  is 
the  offensive  element.  This  product  is  not  at  all 
a  gas,  but  a  cloud  of  fine,  particulate  entities. 
These  particles  do  not  obey  the  law  of  gases  but 
the  law  of  soot.  Exactly  like  that  horrible  sub- 
stance they  cling  affectionately  to  whatsoever 
they  touch.  A  pair  of  lungs,  then,  may  grossly 
be  likened  to  a  smoking  lamp,  giving  forth  carbon 
dioxide,  water,  and  smut. 

But  while  the  organic  emanation  is  the  active 
agent  for  harm  in  expired  air,  it  is  convenient  to 
measure  the  contamination  of  a  given  body  of 
air  by  the  proportion  of  carbon  dioxide  present, 
since  the  gas  and  the  organic  effluvium  go  to- 


4  Breathing 

gether,  always,  and  it  is  a  much  easier  chemical 
operation  to  determine  percentages  of  carbon 
dioxide  than  of  organic  impregnation.  Accord- 
ingly it  is  to  be  understood  that  breath- vitiated 
air  begins  to  be  noxious  when  the  carbon-dioxide 
impregnation  rises  above  six  parts  to  the  ten 
thousand. 

Acute  poisoning  from  exhaled  air  shows  itself 
by  a  bad  taste  in  the  mouth,  headache,  drowsi- 
ness, lassitude,  and  even  lethargy  or  faintness. 
Chronic  poisoning  by  the  agent  is  not  so  easy  to 
define,  since  the  effects  are  necessarily  associated 
with  the  effects  of  other  factors.  Contamination 
of  confined  air  by  other  agencies  than  the  breath, 
uncleanly  habits,  poor  and  insufficient  food,  long 
hours  of  work,  and  lack  of  sunlight  and  exercise, 
are  all  concomitants  of  breath-poisoning  among 
the  poor,  who  so  commonly  live  in  un ventilated 
rooms.  But  after  making  allowance  for  the 
operation  of  these  other  factors,  there  remains 
the  circumstance  of  a  difference  in  health  be- 
tween the  indoor  and  the  outdoor  worker  among 
subjects  in  the  same  walks  of  life,  which  differ- 
ence would  seem  to  be  largely  attributable 
to  the  quality  of  the  inspired  air,  in  the  two 
cases. 

Nature's  scheme  of  life  is  life  in  the  open,  where 
breathing  is  done  in  the  vast  body  of  the  general 
atmosphere.  Under  these  circumstances,  diffu- 
sion quickly  dilutes  exhaled  carbon  dioxide,  which 
then,  in  course  of  time,  is  appropriated  by  plant- 


Breathing  5 

life,  while  the  organic  effluvium  of  breath  falls 
an  easy  prey  to  sun,  wind,  and  rain. 

But  when  breathing  is  done  in  a  ten-by-twelve 
or  even  a  fifteen-by-twenty  box  in  which  all  open- 
ings are  closed,  the  conditions  are  as  completely 
reversed  from  those  of  nature  as  possibly  can  be. 
Even  by  a  single  pair  of  lungs  the  air  in  such  a 
box  is  soon  vitiated.  Hence,  in  closed  places 
where  human  beings  herd  come  readily  those 
symptoms  of  foul-air  poisoning  just  recited. 
Therefore,  of  course,  man  that  hath  eaten  of  the 
tree  of  knowledge  maketh  it  a  first  care  of  his 
rare  intelligence  that  his  indoor  air  shall  be  just 
as  pure  as  conditions  will  permit.  Accordingly— 

— Accordingly  the  countryman  cowers  over  a 
close  stove  in  a  low-ceiled  room  and  shuts  doors 
and  windows:  the  city-dweller  closets  himself 
in  a  steam-heated  apartment-chamber  with  a 
dummy  for  fireplace  and  shuts  the  door  and  the 
window,  while  the  suburbanite  packs  himself  with 
fellow  sardines  in  a  trolley-car  where  there  is 
neither  steam-heat  nor  stove,  and  shuts  both 
doors,  all  windows,  and  even  all  ventilators,  inef- 
fective though  the  poor  things  be ! 

The  picture  is  true  to  life  and  tells  its  story 
without  need  of  comment  by  the  exhibitor !  But, 
one  will  ask,  what  is  to  do?  Perfect  ventilation 
means  machinery  and  elaboration  whose  cost  is 
prohibitive,  and  open  windows  in  winter  mean 
the  shivers  and  a  sore  throat;  so  what  is  to  do? 

There  is  much  to  do — much  that  is  both  inex- 


6  Breathing 

pensive  and  effective,  for  whose  understanding, 
however,  there  must  first  be  stated  the  conditions 
of  the  problem. 

Contaminating  carbon  dioxide  is  simply  dif- 
fused throughout  the  air  of  the  chamber  to  be 
ventilated.  Its  riddance,  therefore,  can  be  ef- 
fected by  changing  the  body  of  the  air,  a  proced- 
ure that  at  the  same  time  re-supplies  deficient 
oxygen.  Contaminating  organic  effluvium  is  but 
imperfectly  diffused  through  the  air,  and  also 
industriously  attaches  itself  to  all  surfaces  afford- 
ing a  good  hold  for  clinging,  which  means  par- 
ticularly to  such  as  are  rough  and  hygroscopic. 
In  the  case  of  this  contaminating  element,  mere 
change  of  air  does  not  wholly  effect  removal,  but 
must  be  supplemented  by  the  cleansing  of  sur- 
faces, which,  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
surface,  will  be  by  wiping  or  washing,  brushing, 
beating,  sunning  and  airing. 

Ventilation,  then,  using  the  word  to  cover  the 
general  purpose  of  nullifying  the  vitiation  of  air 
caused  by  breathing,  embodies  two  distinct  items, 
namely,  the  renewal  of  air  and  the  removal  of 
deposited  effluvium.  The  second  item,  being  the 
simplest,  may  be  considered  first. 

"An  ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  a  pound  of 
cure. ' '  Against  the  plague  of  buzzing  insect  busy- 
bodies  a  well-trimmed  lawn  is  more  effective  than 
mosquito-netting;  locked  cupboards  than  fly- 
paper. Now  the  same  kind  office  that  long 
grass  offers  to  mosquitoes,  or  a  crumb-strewn 


Breathing  7 

table  to  flies,  upholstery  presents  to  the  emana- 
tions of  the  human  lung.  Very  grand  is  the 
drawing-room  with  its  heavy  tapestries,  its  thick 
rugs,  and  its  thicker  cushions,  but  after  a  crowded 
social  "function"  there  will  linger  in  the  sumptu- 
ous apartment  a  noisome  mustiness  that  opened 
windows  will  be  powerless  to  remove.  The  reason 
is  simple:  those  massy  hangings  and  coverings 
make  ideal  harborage  for  stale  breaths,  an  incon- 
gruity as  mocking  and  as  shocking  as  that  of 
Christopher  Sly  in  the  chamber  of  a  lord ! 

Between  upholstery  and  hygiene,  then,  there 
must  ever  rage  an  irrepressible  conflict.  On  the 
one  side  stand  arrayed  paper,  plush,  and  wool, 
and,  on  the  other,  paint,  whitewash,  and  polish. 
If  the  stuffs  must  win,  let  them  at  least  concede 
their  worst  abomination,  the  fixed  carpet,  and 
for  the  rest  make  of  themselves  movables  for 
better  acquaintance  with  sunshine  and  basting- 
stick.  Let  rugs,  though,  have  adjustable  attach- 
ment to  the  floor,  so  that,  when  they  are  down, 
elderly  folk  who  go  to  cross  them  may  not  be 
down,  too,  with  a  sprained  ankle  or  a  broken  hip. 

For  the  understanding  of  the  other  and  essen- 
tial item  of  ventilation,  the  removal  of  air,  there 
must  first  be  appreciated  the  physical  facts  about 
air,  as  follows: 

Air  will  not  move  unless  forced.  According  to 
popular  notion  air  is  a  sort  of  Saturday  urchin 
free  of  school,  romping  actively  here,  there,  and 
everywhere,  in  and  out  of  every  hole  through 


8  Breathing 

which  he  can  crawl,  and  up  to  every  mischief  he 
can  find.  So  of  an  evening,  at  a  window,  we  find 
the  green  blinds  pulled  to  without,  with  slats 
closed,  and,  within,  the  impervious  shade  care- 
fully drawn  down;  then,  because,  forsooth,  the 
sash  is  up  an  inch  between,  the  "  window  is  open" 
and  every  call  for  fresh  air  is  fully  met ! 

But,  quite  to  the  contrary  of  the  popular  idea, 
air  is  the  "  Blue  Monday"  boy,  due  at  school  but 
slow  to  move,  and  certain  not  to  start  without 
pushing  or  pulling. 

Nature's  universal  force  for  the  setting  of  air 
in  motion  is  difference  in  temperature.  Hot  air 
expands  and  rises;  cool,  dense  air  rushes  in  to 
fill  up  the  gap.  It  is  mainly  this  action  that  makes 
the  winds  to  blow,  from  the  zephyr  that  dallies 
to  the  hurricane  that  rages,  and  it  is  exactly  this 
action  that  must  be  utilized  for  the  ventilation 
of  ordinary  domiciles.  In  summer,  when  all 
windows  and  doors  are — or  should  be — wide  open, 
nature  herself  attends  to  the  business.  Her 
splendid  breezes,  fresh  from  sea  or  fields,  blow 
through  the  house,  and  the  air  is  full  of  vitality, 
clean  and  sweet.  In  winter,  the  house  is  warmed 
to  a  temperature  higher  than  that  of  outdoors, 
so  that,  by  an  intelligent  imitation  of  nature's 
methods,  this  difference  in  temperature  easily  can 
be  made  to  do  effective  ventilating,  as  shortly  will 
appear. 

Air  is  not  only  sluggish  but  also  sticky.  It  is, 
as  it  were,  an  aerial  molasses.  Like  the  Blue 


Breathing  9 

Monday  boy,  again,  who,  bound  for  school,  rubs 
dirty  hands  over  every  railing  as  he  goes,  and 
loiters  by  every  corner  and  lamp-post,  so  air  in 
motion  clings  to  every  object  it  meets,  and  pauses 
by  every  snag  and  roughness  of  surface  over  which 
it  passes.  A  thin  belt  of  trees  or  a  mosquito- 
netting  at  a  window  breaks  the  force  of  a  breeze 
to  a  much  greater  degree  than  is  caused  by  the 
mere  mechanical  impediment. 

By  reason  of  this  property  of  air,  outlets  for 
foul  air  should  be  smooth-lined  and  free-mouthed 
— not  ornamented  by  an  obstructive  grating, 
whereas  inlets  for  fresh  air  may  with  advan- 
tage be  covered  with  netting  to  break  sensible 
draught. 

Air  is  practically  incompressible  to  any  but 
powerful  force.  Hence,  in  the  case  of  a  box  such 
as  a  chamber,  new  air  cannot  be  coaxed  in  at 
one  hole  unless  old  air  be  pushed  or  pulled  out 
at  another  to  make  room. 

Such  being  the  vagaries  of  air,  proper  ventila- 
tion of  a  dwelling  proceeds  on  the  following 
principles : 

It  is  a  practical  impossibility  ever  to  make 
the  air  on  the  inside  of  an  inhabited  box  as  pure 
as  that  on  the  outside.  For  this  fact  there  are 
six  solid  reasons,  namely,  the  four  sides,  the 
bottom,  and  the  top  of  the  box  itself.  All  that 
can  be  hoped,  then,  in  the  case  of  a  house  or  a 
chamber  is  to  keep  vitiation  within  bounds. 

Now  the  very  first  consideration  in  the  chang- 


lo  Breathing 

ing  of  the  air  of  a  room  is  the  size  of  the  room 
itself.  It  is  found  that  to  keep  the  air  of  an 
occupied  chamber  fairly  pure — below  the  odor- 
point,  as  expressed  by  a  seven-to-ten-thousand 
carbon-dioxide  impregnation,  each  pair  of  lungs 
operating  therein  must  receive  three  thousand 
cubic  feet  of  fresh  air  every  hour.  At  the  same 
time  it  also  is  found  that  to  change  the  air  of 
a  given  apartment  oftener  than  three  times  an 
hour  is  to  produce  a  sensible  draught  against 
which  backs  and  necks,  in  winter-time,  ever 
rebel.  Accordingly,  to  get  three  thousand  feet 
by  not  more  than  three  shifts,  the  body  of  air  to 
be  changed  must  itself  be  not  less  than  one 
thousand  cubic  feet  in  volume.  This  means  that 
one  thousand  cubic  feet,  the  dimension  of  ten  by 
ten  by  ten,  is  the  absolute  minimum  of  air-space 
to  be  allotted  to  each  occupant  of  a  chamber  as  a 
fundamental  prerequisite  of  ventilation.  It  is 
wiser,  however,  in  practice,  in  order  to  offset 
deficiencies  of  ventilation,  to  allow  a  certain  ex- 
cess of  air-space,  and  so  to  set  the  practical 
minimum  at  an  allowance  of  fifteen  hundred 
cubic  feet  for  each  occupant — the  dimension  of 
fifteen  by  ten  by  ten. 

Now  a  fair-sized  parlor  for  a  New  York  house 
is  one  twenty-three  feet  long  by  fourteen  wide 
and  eleven  high.  But  such  dimensions  give  only 
a  little  over  thirty-five  hundred  cubic  feet,  or 
just  about  the  air-allowance  for  husband,  wife, 
and  one  small  child,  or  pug,  according  to  the 


Breathing  1 1 

zoology  of  the  family  pride.  Yet  how  often,  on 
the  occasion  of  some  social  function,  will  such  a 
drawing-room  be  required  to  accommodate  (!) 
ten  and  more  times  as  many  pairs  of  lungs,  in 
different  degrees  of  good  orderliness,  but  all 
actively  at  work ! 

Practically,  therefore,  as  homes  go,  there  is 
nearly  always  a  deficiency  of  air-space  in  cham- 
bers. To  correct  this  fault  there  is  only  one 
thing  to  do,  but  fortunately  that  one  thing  is  a 
very  simple  matter,  being  merely  to  open  the 
door!  Open  all  doors  except  the  front  door  and 
that  at  the  head  of  the  kitchen-stairs,  and  leave 
them  open,  night  and  day.  By  this  means  the 
whole  house  becomes  practically  one  body  of  air, 
where  halls  and  temporarily  unoccupied  rooms 
contribute  their  quota  of  unvitiated  air  to  help 
ventilate  the  occupied  chambers.  Of  course,  in 
an  apartment-house  or  a  boarding-house  where 
unrelated  boarders  live  in  the  different  chambers, 
exactly  this  simple  and  effective  feature  in  ven- 
tilation cannot  be  put  into  operation.  Hence 
comes  about  the  horror  of  the  steam-heated 
flat,  with  its  stuffy  rooms,  and  the  abomination 
of  the  boarding-house  with  its  dark  malodorous 
halls  and  stairways.  In  hotels  it  is  different. 
There  end-windows  to  the  corridors  and  tran- 
soms to  the  chamber-doors  supply  the  needful 
avenues  of  communication. 

Assuming  the  private  dwelling  with  its  possi- 
bility of  open  doors,  then  the  scheme  is  to  heat 


1 2  Breathing 

the  halls  so  that  the  doors  can  be  kept  open;  to 
provide  straightaway  smooth-lined  upward-reach- 
ing outlets  through  which  the  hot  effete  air  may 
rush,  on  command,  to  the  outer  world,  and  grated 
or  netted  side  openings  to  serve  as  inlets  for 
fresh  air  to  take  the  place  of  the  old.  The  out- 
lets will  be  the  scuttle,  the  skylight,  ventilating- 
flues  (when  there  are  such),  and  fireplaces.  The 
inlets  will  be  special  window-fittings,  as  will 
shortly  be  explained. 

As  to  the  outlets:  Few  realize  what  an  effect- 
ive general  outlet  for  ventilating  purpose  is 
afforded  by  an  open  scuttle.  Situated  as  it  is 
at  the  very  top  of  the  house,  the  scuttle  is  in 
exactly  the  right  position  for  such  purpose. 
One  of  the  first  things  to  be  done  on  moving 
into  a  house,  then,  is  to  call  in  the  carpenter  to 
ease  the  scuttle-fitting — for  scuttles  always  stick 
— so  that  the  lid  can  be  opened  without  a 
bumped  head  or  a  sprained  wrist.  In  New  York, 
a  certain  skylight-maker  has  devised  an  ingenious 
arrangement  whereby  by  the  pull  of  a  cord  at 
the  foot  of  the  ladder  the  scuttle  is  both  un- 
bolted and  opened,  and  that,  too,  to  any  desired 
extent.  Then  by  a  jerk  and  a  slackening  of 
the  cord  the  action  is  reversed  and  the  scuttle 
closes  and  automatically  locks  itself.  With  this 
fitting  there  is  no  excuse  for  not  utilizing  system- 
atically the  ventilating  advantage  of  an  open 
scuttle. 

The  skylight,  when  provided  with  openings  to 


Breathing  1 3 

the  outer  air  and  movable  panes  below,  operates 
like  the  opened  scuttle. 

Ventilating  -  shafts,  when  provided,  will  be 
vastly  more  effective  if  the  inevitable  ornamental 
grating  be  removed.  But  ventilating-shafts  are 
not  common  in  ordinary  dwelling-houses.  For 
the  individual  chambers,  then,  the  one  and  only 
possible  outlet  is  the  fireplace. 

If  this  writer  were  to  have  his  way,  any  ar- 
chitect designing  a  suite  of  rooms,  especially  in 
an  apartment -house  or  an  office-building,  and 
neglecting  to  provide  at  least  one  fireplace — real, 
with  chimney-flue  complete,  and  not  a  dummy 
—should  be  drummed  out  of  the  professional 
camp! 

And  whatsoever  odist  may  be  casting  about 
for  a  theme  seriously  deserving  of  rhapsody,  let 
him  sing  of  the  ingleside!  For  in  modern  dwell- 
ing as  in  castle  "  old  in  story",  whether  for  warm- 
ing, for  ventilating,  or  for  binding  together  the 
family  with  "  sweet  influences  ",  the  open  fire  holds 
place  immortal, — the  one  device  handed  down 
from  the  days  when  man  first  struck  sparks  that 
"modern  improvement",,  with  its  devilish  cun- 
ning in  catering  to  sloth  at  the  expense  of  health, 
has  not  wholly  succeeded  in  "improving"  into 
banishment. 

The  fireplace  provides  an  air-outlet  pointing 
straight  to  heaven,  as  such  outlets  should,  where 
also  by  a  fire  at  the  base  of  the  flue  the  up- 
draujrht  ^s  enormously  reinforced.  Even  without 


1 4  Breathing 

any  special  inlet  for  fresh  air,  a  room  with  an 
open  fire  will  always  be  sweet.  The  gallons  upon 
gallons  of  air  sucked  up,  out,  and  off  by  the 
action  of  the  fire  make  a  void  in  the  chamber 
that  must  be  filled  somehow  from  somewhere, 
else  the  window-panes  would  quickly  be  burst  in 
by  pressure  of  air  from  without.  From  every 
crack,  cranny,  and  keyhole,  as  well  as  from  open 
doorways,  is  drawn  new  air  to  make  good  the 
loss  by  constant  uprush  of  the  old.  Also  the 
quality  of  the  heat  given  out  by  an  open  fire — 
radiant  heat — while  wasteful  and  uneven  for  the 
different  quarters  of  the  room,  yet  has  a  purify- 
ing effect  that  makes  it  a  mighty  factor  for 
health. 

An  excellent  device  for  the  open  fire,  for  those 
who  can  afford  it  and  can  overlook  the  abomina- 
tion of  its  dysaestheticism,  is  the  gas-log.  The 
arrangement  is  convenient  and  cleanly,  and — a 
great  point — gives  a  perfectly  steady  fire  and 
one  that  can  be  turned  on  or  off  as  wanted. 
Objection  is  made  sometimes  that  the  gas-log 
smells  and  makes  headaches,  bad  taste  in  the 
mouth,  etc.  But  in  any  such  case  the  fault  lies 
not  in  the  log  but  in  the  flue.  There  is  no  in- 
trinsic difference  between  the  products  of  com- 
bustion of  gas  and  of  coal  or  wood, — indeed,  the 
burning  of  coal  is  but  a  crude  method  of  burning 
gas.  A  flue,  therefore,  that  discharges  into  the 
room  fumes  from  a  gas-log  is  one  that  would 
"smoke"  to  a  corresponding  extent  with  a  wood 


Breathing  1 5 

or  coal  fire.  In  some  cases  the  trouble  is  no 
flue  at  all,  for,  inconceivable  though  the  iniquity 
be,  the  writer  has  known  of  the  setting  of  gas- 
logs  in  dummy  fireplaces  with  no  outlet  what- 
ever for  the  noxious  fumes  save  into  the  very 
body  of  air  of  the  chamber  itself ! 

Provided  there  be  gas  in  the  house,  a  gas-log 
can  ordinarily  be  put  into  any  fireplace  at  a 
fairly  moderate  cost. 

Even  without  a  fire,  a  fireplace  operates  to  a 
certain  extent  as  a  ventilating-flue,  as  one  can 
test  by  a  smoking  taper.  But  the  effect  can  be 
enhanced  by  the  simple  device  of  putting  a 
lighted  lamp  or  even  candle  in  the  fireplace,  set 
so  that  the  flame  is  not  much  below  the  level 
of  the  upper  border.  For  even  so  small  a  degree 
of  heat  as  that  so  derived  sets  in  motion  the 
air  in  the  chimney  and  so  maintains  a  steady 
updr aught  through  the  flue. 

The  serious  difficulty  in  house- ventilation  is  the 
matter  of  the  intake  of  fresh  air, — how  to  arrange 
it  so  that  there  shall  be  no  objectionable  cold 
draught.  In  really  cold  weather  a  slightly 
raised  window-sash  means  a  thin  slice  of  cold 
air  falling  with  sensible  draught  upon  ankles 
or  neck, — a  wholly  intolerable  condition.  Theo- 
retically the  use  of  the  hot-air  furnace  to  warm 
the  house  should  solve  the  problem.  For  here 
fresh  air  is  taken  in  from  without,  heated  at  the 
furnace  and  then  distributed  to  halls  and  cham- 
bers by  the  furnace-flues  to  warm  by  admixture 


1 6  Breathing 

the  general  body  of  air  of  the  house.  But  here 
a  trouble  all  its  own  lies  hid  in  the  words  "  heated 
at  the  furnace".  If  only  it  would  suffice  that 
the  air  should  be  warmed  at  the  furnace,  all 
would  be  well.  But  in  order  to  warm  the  whole 
house  by  admixture,  the  furnace-air  must  dis- 
tinctly be  heated  and  heated  considerably.  Now 
air  furnace-warmed  beyond  a  very  moderate 
degree,  75°  F.,  suffers  a  peculiar  change — is 
"burnt",  as  is  the  technical  phrase,  and  has 
lost  its  freshness  for  respiration  purpose.  Also 
it  has  less  than  its  natural  moisture.  Partly 
because  of  these  changes  and  partly  because  in  a 
furnace-heated  house  fireplaces  are  apt  to  be 
lacking  or  to  be  disused,  furnace-heat  as  the  sole 
system  for  warming  is  as  disagreeable  as  it  is 
unwholesome.  To  the  unaccustomed,  indeed, 
especially  in  overheated  houses,  it  is  well-nigh 
intolerable. 

There  is  no  help  for  it,  then,  but  to  go  to  the 
windows  for  the  intake  of  fresh  air,  and  the 
practical  problem  presents  of  how  to  avoid  a 
sensible  draught.  This  must  be  effected  either 
by  changing  the  direction  of  the  draught  by 
shunting  it  upward,  or  by  breaking  its  force  with 
nettings,  on  the  principle  already  described,  or  by 
both  means  combined.  The  simplest  device  is  a 
narrow  piece  of  board,  just  the  width  of  the  sash, 
to  be  set  under  the  lower  sash,  raised  just  enough 
to  receive  it.  By  this  arrangement  an  opening 
is  established  between  the  two  sashes,  through 


Breathing  17 

which  air  may  enter  and,  necessarily,  with  an  up- 
ward course.  Or  a  box  attachment  may  be  fitted 
to  the  window,  whereby,  when  the  sash  is  raised 
somewhat,  the  incoming  air  will  be  delivered 
more  or  less  vertically  and  be  made  to  pass 
through  a  screen  of  wire  netting  backed  with 
porous  cloth.  Then  the  top  of  the  lower  sash 
must  properly  be  weather-stripped  to  prevent  air 
from  coming  in  between  the  sashes.  In  New 
York,  ventilators  on  this  principle  are  on  the 
market.  A  narrow  box-like  attachment  is  fitted 
to  the  lower  part  of  the  window,  whereof  the 
opening  is  a  hinged  lid  facing  upward  and  con- 
sisting simply  of  an  open  framework  covered  with 
wire  netting  backed  by  a  loose-meshed  cloth.  To 
the  top  of  the  window  is  fitted  a  flat  frame,  a  few 
inches  wide,  similarly  covered.  The  idea  is  that 
fresh  air  shall  come  in  at  the  lower  opening  while 
the  hot,  foul  air  of  the  upper  portion  of  the  room 
finds  outlet  above.  These  ventilators  do  not 
interfere  with  the  raising  or  lowering  of  the  sash, 
and  the  lower,  box-like  attachment  is  removable. 
The  ventilators  are  made  to  order  to  fit  the 
windows  and  are  built  of  any  kind  of  wood  to  con- 
form with  that  of  the  jambs.  They  are  neat  in 
design,  handsome  in  appearance,  and  rather  orna- 
mental than  otherwise  to  the  window.  They  are 
thoroughly  efficient  for  providing  an  intake  of 
fresh  air  without  a  sensible  draught. 

In  the  matter  of  windows,  what  a  Yankee  would 
call  a  " cute  dodge"  is  to  have  them  reach  to  the 


1 8  Breathing 

ceiling.  The  uppermost  layer  of  air  in  a  room — 
that  above  the  upper  border  of  doors  and  windows 
— is  practically  imprisoned.  It  is  lighter  than 
the  layers  below,  and  so  tends  to  cling  to  the 
ceiling,  even  when  doors  and  windows  are  opened ; 
diffusion  alone  operating  to  change  it.  Conse- 
quently such  layer  is  always  hot  and  foul  as 
compared  with  the  lower  body  of  air,  a  fact  easily 
demonstrated  by  a  climb  upon  a  step-ladder.  If, 
now,  the  window-openings  are  cut  high,  then  the 
lowering  of  the  upper  sash,  as  is  the  condition  when 
the  above-described  ventilators  are  in  operation, 
provides  a  flush  opening  into  the  topmost  layer 
of  air,  and  so  effects  thorough  ventilation.  Inci- 
dentally such  high-cut  windows  enhance  enor- 
mously the  lighting  of  the  room,  for,  of  course, 
it  is  from  the  upper  portion  of  the  window  that 
illumination  is  derived.  There  are  architects  who 
will  build  windows  after  this  pattern  and  of  their 
own  accord,  as  witness  the  present  edifice  of  the 
College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons  in  the  city  of 
New  York. 

Under  the  conditions  of  the  modern  dwelling- 
house,  then,  the  best  available  system  for  venti- 
lating and  warming  is  as  follows :  One  body  of  air 
for  the  whole  house ;  the  warming  of  the  halls  by 
whatever  scheme  the  house  provides,  the  direct- 
indirect  hot-water  system  preferred;  a  supple- 
mentary warming  of  the  rooms  by  open  fires; 
then,  according  to  weather,  open  skylight,  open 
scuttle,  open  ventilators  at  the  windows,  and  not 


Breathing  19 

a  square  inch  of  carpet  from  attic  to  cellar,  but 
only  rugs,  and  they  neither  too  many,  too  big,  nor 
too  thick. 

If  the  householder  be  so  fortunate  that  he 
can  determine  what  shall  be  the  method  of 
heating  for  his  house,  the  following  points  will 
present  for  consideration: 

In  house-warming  it  is  not  the  house  that 
is  to  be  warmed,  but  the  human  bodies  within 
it.  Now  the  body  will  be  comfortably  warm 
under  two  distinctly  different  conditions:  first, 
if  bathed  in  air  itself  of  a  temperature  between 
68°  and  70°  Fahr.,  and,  secondly,  if  similarly 
bathed  in  air  ten  degrees  lower  in  temperature 
while  at  the  same  time  the  body  is  exposed 
to  radiant  heat.  Radiant  heat — the  heat  given 
off  from  a  hot  surface  or  a  flame — passes  through 
air  in  straight  lines:  does  not  warm  the  air  in 
passage,  but  does  warm  any  solid  body  upon 
which  the  rays  may  impinge.  By  reason  of 
this  fact,  an  open  fire  or  a  steam-coil  will  warm 
the  occupant  of  a  room  at  a  lower  temperature 
of  contained  air  than  must  be  the  case  where 
the  warming  is  exclusively  by  hot  air.  And 
the  lower  the  temperature  of  the  air,  while  yet 
the  body  is  warm,  the  greater  the  comfort  and 
the  more  wholesome  the  condition. 

Understanding  this  fundamental  point,  the 
special  features  of  the  different  methods  of 
warming  may  thus  be  summarized: 


2O  Breathing 

The  open  fire  is  ideal.  It  warms  by  radiation, 
and  therefore  at  a  comparatively  low  room- 
temperature,  and  at\he  same  time  it  ventilates 
as  nothing  else  will.  It  is,  however,  costly  and 
unequal,  and,  in  really  cold  climates,  is  by  itself 
inadequate.  If  the  fuel  be  wood,  the  fire  is 
unsteady;  if  coal,  the  fireplace  is  dirty;  if  gas, 
the  cost  is  serious.  All  these  points  combined 
make  it  the  function  of  the  open  fire,  in  such 
climates  as  that  of  the  northern  United  States, 
merely  to  supplement  some  system  of  general 
house-warming,  as  has  already  been  set  forth. 

The  hot-air  furnace  warms  by  warming  the 
air,  a  disadvantage,  as  just  seen.  It  introduces 
fresh  air,  but  fresh  air  unduly  dry  for  its  tempera- 
ture. It  is  liable  to  faults  of  construction, 
making  its  practical  working  a  horror  or  a 
torture,  one  or  both.  First,  the  intake  for  fresh 
air  may  so  be  set  as  to  introduce  foul  air  instead 
of  pure.  The  intake  should  be  metal-lined, 
protected  from  vermin-intrusion,  and  set  several 
feet  above  the  yard-level.  And,  it  is  needless 
to  add,  the  environment  of  its  open  mouth  should 
be  properly  policed.  Secondly,  and  very  com- 
monly, the  heating  surface  is  too  small,  a  fault 
leading  to  two  grave  consequences.  The  heating 
capacity  being  small,  the  fire  must  be  hot;  the 
fire  being  hot,  the  firepot  gets  red-hot,  and  so 
permits  carbon  monoxide,  a  highly  noxious  fume, 
to  pass  through  the  substance  of  the  iron  itself 
into  the  air-flue ;  or,  worse  yet,  the  firepot  cracks 


Breathing  21 

and  so  leaks  fumes  bodily.  From  an  overhot 
fire  comes  also  a  superheating  of  the  air  in  the 
air-flues,  producing  that  disagreeable  and  un- 
wholesome burnt  quality  of  air  already  described. 
The  air  in  a  hot-air  furnace  never  should  be 
delivered  into  the  rooms  at  a  higher  temperature 
than  1 00°  F.,  and  every  degree  of  lowering  from 
this  point  down  to  75°  F.  will  mean  an  added 
degree  of  health  and  comfort. 

Hot-water  pipes  give  radiant  heat  of  low  grade 
at  the  same  time  that  they  also  warm  the  air 
by  convection.  The  system  is  cheaper  to  main- 
tain than  that  of  steam-pipes  and  has  the  merit 
that  the  heat  can  be  regulated  at  pleasure.  It 
has  the  disadvantage,  in  the  "direct"  method, 
of  providing  no  ventilation  whatever. 

Steam-pipes  are  similar  to  hot-water  pipes  in 
principle  and  effect,  with  the  added  disadvantage 
that  the  heat  from  any  given  coil  cannot  be 
regulated.  Each  coil  is  either  fully  "on"  or 
wholly  "off",  without  any  intermediary  con- 
dition. From  this  fact,  and  from  the  necessity 
of  having  the  plant  adequate  for  the  coldest 
weather,  it  happens  that  except  in  cold  snaps  a 
steam-heated  apartment  is  generally  an  over- 
heated one.  At  the  same  time,  if  there  be  no 
fireplace,  as  generally  there  is  not,  the  room  is 
pretty  sure  to  be  wholly  unventilated,  so  that 
the  combination  of  hot  air  and  bad  air  makes 
the  atmosphere  well-nigh  intolerable  to  one  not 
trained  to  be  a  salamander. 


22  Breathing 

What  is  known  as  indirect  hot-water  or  steam 
heating  is  quite  another  affair  from  the  foregoing. 
This  system  is  a  combination  of  the  features  of 
the  coil  and  the  hot-air  furnace.  The  coil  is  not 
placed  in  the  room  but  somewhere  underneath, 
where,  like  a  furnace,  it  heats  air  in  tubes,  which 
heated  air  is  then  delivered  into  the  room.  Here 
is  the  advantage  of  a  delivery  of  fresh  air,  and 
that  never  superheated,  but  there  is  the  disad- 
vantage of  all  hot-air  systems  that  the  air  of  the 
room  must  itself  be  warmed  to  the  limit. 

In  yet  another  system,  the  so-called  direct- 
indirect,  the  radiators  are  placed  underneath 
the  room-windows,  and  air  is  admitted  upon  them 
immediately  from  without  by  suitable  openings  in 
the  house-wall  controllable  by  a  key  within  the 
room.  This  system,  especially  when  the  coils 
carry  hot  water,  gives  the  advantage  of  radiant 
heat,  clean  and  manageable,  together  with  a  de- 
livery of  fresh  air,  directly  drawn.  If  also  there 
be  a  fireplace  or  a  ventilating-shaft,  to  carry  off 
the  foul  air,  the  requirements  of  ventilating  and 
of  warming  are  fully  met. 

A  point  of  great  importance  in  connection  with 
the  heating  of  dwellings  is  that  of  humidity  of 
air.  Air  loves  water  and  water  loves  air.  Ac- 
cordingly there  is  always  ready  evaporation  of- 
exposed  moisture  up  to  the  saturation-point 
of  the  surrounding  air;  and  this  same  sat- 
uration-point varies  with  temperature,  warm 


Breathing  23 

air  being  able  to  hold  far  more  vapor  of  water 
than  cold.  In  round  numbers,  the  absorbing 
capacity  of  air  for  moisture  doubles  with  each 
rise  of  twenty  degrees  of  temperature,  Fahren- 
heit. That  is,  air  fully  saturated  with  vapor  at 
60°  F.  will  be  only  50  per  cent  saturated  at 
80°,  and  accordingly  at  such  temperature  will 
take  up  as  much  again  of  moisture  if  it  can 
get  it.  Now  the  human  body  exhales  moisture 
from  skin  and  exposed  mucous  membranes,  such 
as  those  of  the  eyes  and  the  respiratory  tract, 
and  is  uncomfortable  when  the  surrounding  air 
is  either  unduly  moist  or  unduly  dry.  And 
when  cold  air,  which,  because  cold,  can  contain 
but  little  moisture,  is  heated  to  the  summer  tem- 
perature of  68°  or  70°  F.,  it  is  necessarily  unduly 
dry  for  its  temperature.  Accordingly  ,  such  air 
is  oppressive  for  breathing,  and  just  this  quality 
of  undue  dryness  is  one  factor  in  the  distress 
attending  artificial  heat,  especially  when  the 
heating  is  by  stove  or  furnace.  To  neutralize 
this  effect,  evaporating-pans  should  be  pro- 
vided somewhere  in  connection  with  the  heating 
plant  of  a  house,  to  supply  moisture  along  with 
the  heat.  For  comfort,  the  percentage  of  humid- 
ity should  not  fall  much  below  thirty.  When  it 
drops  to  fifteen,  glued  furniture  begins  to  drop 
apart !  Too  much  humidity  would  be  a  mistake 
in  the  other  direction:  there  would  be  as  little 
sense  as  comfort  in  reproducing  artificially  an 
oppressively  humid  summer  day. 


24  Breathing 

A  last  point  in  connection  with  house-air  is 
this:  By  day  we  breathe  day-air;  what  shall 
we  breathe  by  night  ?  This  writer,  brought  up  by 
the  best  of  mothers  to  be  a  fresh-air  fiend  by 
taste  long  before  he  was  so  also  by  understand- 
ing, will  never  forget  his  first  practical  experi- 
ence with  this  question  as  an  issue.  It  was  on 
an  occasion  when,  as  a  medical  student,  he 
was  assigned  by  his  preceptor  to  spend  the 
night  at  the  home  of  a  patient  close  by,  in  order 
to  be  on  hand  in  the  event  of  a  certain  possible 
contingency.  He  was  given  for  the  night  a  hall- 
bedroom,  and  when  came  the  hour  for  retiring, 
his  host,  a  most  kindly  old  gentleman,  accom- 
panied him  to  the  chamber  to  see  that  all  com- 
forts were  duly  provided.  Going,  then,  to  the 
one  window,  the  white-whiskered  dispenser  of 
benevolence  opened  it,  drew  in  and  fastened  the 
outside  green  blinds  and  closed  their  slats.  Then 
down  came  the  sash,  tight,  down  in  turn  came 
the  shade,  and  lastly  with  a  triumphant  click 
home  went  the  catch  on  a  pair  of  old-fashioned 
inside  shutters,  solid  and  heavy,  whose  perfect 
closing  completed  the  hermetical  seal.  Turning, 
then,  with  the  serene  smile  of  one  who  has  done 
his  whole  duty  to  his  fellow  man,  the  dear  old 
gentleman  remarked  in  passing,  ' '  to  keep  the 
night-air  off  you",  and  with  a  pleasant  good- 
night left  the  little  room.  The  medical  student, 
whose  eyes  had  been  bulging  wider  and  wider 
with  astonishment  as  the  various  performances 


Breathing  25 

at  the  window  progressed,  waited  till  the  foot- 
falls of  his  benefactor  ceased  to  sound  upon  the 
stair,  and  then,  like  papa  in  his  cap  on  the  night 
before  Christmas,  "away  to  the  window"  he 
"flew  like  a  flash,  tore  open  the  shutter  and 
threw  up  the  sash."  Then  purposely  forgetting 
to  close  either,  to  bed  he  went.  And,  the  dreaded 
contingency  not  happening,  there  slept  he 
soundly,  and  in  the  morning  awoke  with  clear 
head,  fresh  face  and  clean  tongue,  ready  for 
home,  bath,  breakfast,  and  the  duties  of  the 
day. 

"To  keep  the  night-air  off  you,"  forsooth! 
What,  then,  to  breathe  by  night, — bottled  day- 
air,  befouled  and  stale?  Oh,  the  horror,  as  that 
guileless  medical  student  came  later  to  know— 
the  morning  horror  of  a  boarding-house  bed- 
room, double-bedded  and  double-occupied,  with 
doors  and  windows  shut,  during  the  long  hours 
of  a  winter's  night!  "She'll  see  you  in  a  few 
minutes,  doctor,  as  soon  as  her  room  is  aired, " 
is  a  form  of  greeting  at  the  early  professional 
visit.  And  in  the  stuffy  parloi,  itself  in  sad 
need  of  airing,  the  old  doctor  seats  himself  to 
wait,  and,  waiting,  bethinks  him  of  his  own 
sweet  bedchamber,  newly  left,  that  never  needs 
any  airing  in  the  morning,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  it  has  been  airing  all  night. 

Let,  then,  those  that  may  be  pursued  by  this 
phantom  terror  of  "night-air"  understand  that 
there  is  nothing  abroad  in  the  air  of  night  differ- 


26  Breathing 

ent  from  what  is  to  be  found  in  the  air  of  day 
save  only  bats,  owls,  and  the  Anopheles  mos- 
quito! And  even  the  latter,  when  he  is  a  possi- 
bility with  malaria-laden  sting,  is  safely  barred 
by  a  netting  at  the  window.  Let,  then,  the 
superstition  be  laid,  and  when  comes  bedtime, 
freely  up  sash  so  far  as  weather  will  justify,  nor 
fear  infection  from  the  silent  kiss  of  the  sweet, 
pure  mother  of  day! 

In  malarious  districts  nettings  to  the  windows 
and  even  to  the  doors  of  the  house  are  all-im- 
portant. It  is  now  known  definitely  that  malaria 
is  carried  by  the  Anopheles  mosquito,  and  there 
is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  it  ever  is  carried  in 
any  other  way.  The  female  of  this  mosquito  bites 
a  malarious  subject  and  from  the  infected  blood 
thus  drawn  develops  within  herself  another 
phase  of  the  contained  malaria-parasite,  which 
then  she  delivers  through  her  sting  into  the  blood 
of  a  second  subject,  bitten  at  the  proper  stage 
of  the  development.  Anopheles  flies  and  bites 
only  after  sunset,  a  circumstance  that  accounts 
for  the  well-known  fact  that  even  the  most 
deadly  malarious  districts  can  safely  be  visited 
during  the  daytime.  The  retiring,  by  sunset, 
into  a  well-screened  domicile,  affords  perfect 
protection  from  malarious  infection. 

The  Anopheles  mosquito  differs  from  the 
ordinary  mosquito  of  the  genus  Culex  in  many 
particulars,  but  most  strikingly  in  the  pose  when 
resting.  Culex  stands  with  the  back  humped, 


Breathing  27 

head  down,  and  abdomen  drooping,  while  Ano- 
pheles rests  with  head,  thorax,  and  abdomen  in  a 
straight  line  which  is  tipped  up  strongly  from 
before  backward.  The  insect,  indeed,  looks  to  be 
standing  on  its  head,  with  the  abdomen  pointed 
upward,  it  may  be  even  vertically. 

Of  course  not  every  female  Anopheles  is 
necessarily  malaria-laden.  Before  a  mosquito  can 
give  malaria  it  must  get  it,  and  from  man.  But 
whether  man  first  infected  mosquito  or  mosquito 
first  infected  man  is  as  idle  an  inquiry  as  that 
other,  whether  the  first  hen  laid  the  first  egg  or 
the  first  egg  hatched  the  first  chick. 

The  hygiene  of  the  breathing  organs  them- 
selves must  next  receive  attention.  There  is 
much  to  say  concerning  the  very  act  of  breathing, 
but  since  this  act  is  intimately  associated  with 
others  muscular,  it  is  most  conveniently  dis- 
cussed in  the  chapter  on  physical  exercise. 

The  avenue  for  breathing  always  should  be 
the  organ  provided  by  nature  for  the  purpose, 
which  is  the  nose  and  not  at  all  the  mouth.  One 
may  ask,  what  difference  does  it  make,  since 
both  doors  lead  to  the  same  passage,  along  which 
the  incoming  air  is  to  be  ushered?  It  simply 
makes  all  the  difference  between  health  and 
disease.  What  the  lungs  want  of  the  atmosphere 
is  its  air,  and  the  less  they  get  of  the  dust  that 
the  atmosphere  holds  so  abundantly — dust, 


28  Breathing 

animal,  vegetable,  and  mineral — the  better  both 
for  the  lungs  and  the  general  economy  behind. 
Also  the  lungs  need  their  air  somewhat  warm 
and  moist,  so  as  not  to  be  irritating  to  their 
delicate  surfaces. 

Now  the  nostril  suggests  a  theatre-door,  a 
narrow  opening  leading  to  a  lofty  vaulted  space 
beset  with  overhanging  galleries.  These  galleries 
of  the  nose  are,  of  course,  covered  with  warm 
and  moist  mucous  membrane,  and  perform  upon 
inspired  air  the  triple  office  of  filtering,  warming, 
and  moistening.  In  the  case  of  the  mouth,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  suggestion  is  of  a  tunnel,  an 
opening  of  the  same  calibre  as  the  chamber  itself, 
with  no  galleries  to  break  the  smooth  and  even 
passage.  In  mouth-breathing,  therefore,  the  in- 
drawn air  rushes  straight  upon  the  larynx  in  its 
crude  condition,  unfiltered,  unwarmed,  and  un- 
moistened. 

The  importance  to  health  of  nose-breathing 
cannot  be  overestimated.  Not  only  are  throat, 
larynx,  and  lungs  saved  from  the  irritation  given 
by  cold,  dry,  and  dusty  air,  but  the  ever-present 
germs  of  disease  are  stopped  at  the  outer  gate. 
So  strong  is  the  instinct  to  breathe  through  the 
nose  that  habitual  mouth-breathing  quite  surely 
means  some  obstacle  to  the  use  of  the  natural 
avenue.  In  children,  occlusion  of  the  nasal  pas- 
sages is  very  commonly  by  a  soft  growth  at  the 
rear  opening,  which  declares  itself  in  no  other 
way  than  by  necessitating  mouth-breathing  and, 


Breathing  29 

as  a  possible  consequence,  causing  deafness. 
The  growth  is  not  in  view  by  ordinary  throat 
inspection,  so  that  its  presence  is  unsuspected  by 
the  unitiated.  When  the  subject  reaches  adult 
age,  this  growth  generally  withers  away  of  itself, 
but  leaves,  alas,  permanent  consequences.  Its 
existence  during  many  years  of  adolescence  may 
have  hampered  the  proper  development  of  the 
adjacent  parts,  so  that  the  rear  passage  from  the 
nose  remains  too  small  and  the  subject  must  con- 
tinue to  breathe  through  the  mouth,  more  or  less. 
From  the  unnatural  position  of  the  jaw  in  mouth- 
breathing,  the  muscles  and  even  the  bones  of  the 
face  have  developed  wrong.  The  upper  jaw  is 
long  and  narrow,  with  projecting  front  teeth, 
and  in  the  lower  jaw  the  chin  is  peaked  and 
receding.  The  whole  face  has  a  characteristic 
blank  expression. 

Every  mother  should  be  informed  on  these 
points,  and  as  soon  as  the  sharp  maternal  eye 
notices  in  one  of  her  darlings  a  tendency,  upon 
any  exertion,  to  breathe  through  the  mouth, 
then  should  that  good  mother  whisk  the  little 
one  to  an  expert's  office  without  delay.  Then 
at  the  home-coming  of  paterfamilias  will  she 
have  to  tell  a  wonderful  tale  of  a  surgeon  and  a 
bunch  of  grapes,  and  will  she  gleefully  point  to 
little  Johnnie  or  Mollie  romping  about  the  room 
and  breathing  with  mouth  as  tight  shut  as 
pussie  or  baby ! 

Mouth-breathing  in  adults  is  commonly  from 


30  Breathing 

obstruction  in  the  nasal  passages,  sometimes,  as 
just  described,  in  consequence  of  the  peculiar 
growth  of  childhood.  The  peccant  conditions  are 
often  perfectly  removable,  and,  of  course,  should 
so  be  removed. 

Catarrh  is  a  vague  term  covering  a  multitude 
of  sins,  from  an  acute  coryza  following  a  chill  or 
an  exposure  to  breath- vitiated  air,  to  the  chronic 
or  recurring  inflammations  that  attend  diseases, 
growths  and  deformities  of  the  nasal  passages 
or  the  throat.  An  acute  coryza,  or  common 
"cold  in  the  head,"  can  often  be  aborted  or 
greatly  ameliorated  by  proper  treatment,  if 
taken  early.  Chronic  catarrh  may  be  a  disease 
by  itself  or  merely  a  secondary  consequence  of 
some  organic  trouble  more  or  less  amenable  to 
the  arts  of  modern  surgery.  Even  hay-fever, 
reputed  child  of  roses  and  ripening  grasses,  is 
often  a  mere  Frankenstein  of  the  nose  itself — 
born  of  a  polyp  and  not  at  all  of  pollen!  How- 
ever caused,  chronic  catarrh  should  not  be 
neglected,  for,  apart  from  its  disgusting  qualities, 
making  its  victim  an  oifense  to  associates  as 
well  as  a  misery  to  self,  the  condition  is  a  con- 
stant menace.  The  wandering  germs  of  pneu- 
monia, diphtheria,  tuberculosis  and  their  fell 
brotherhood  are,  like  the  poor,  ever  with  us, 
and,  again  like  the  poor,  find  their  natural  habitat 
in  unwholesome  conditions.  A  story  might  be 
made  of  two  subjects  and  two  germs,  the  one 
subject  shall  be  taken  and  the  other  left.  The 


Breathing  31 

one  taken  is  a  poor  seamstress,  snivelling  with 
catarrh  over  a  hot  stove  in  a  small,  stuffy  room, 
while  he  who  is  left  is  a  burly  motorman,  clang- 
ing clear-the-way  equally  to  tuberculosis-germs 
and  to  trucks,  as  he  doggedly  opposes  the  hardi- 
hood of  health  to  the  rough-and-tumble  buffets 
of  Boreas. 

Catarrhal  subjects,  even  more  than  the  healthy, 
need  to  breathe  through  the  nose,  and  to  breathe 
only  pure  air.  Yet,  more  commonly  than  not,  it 
is  exactly  the  victim  of  catarrh  who  shuts  out  the 
sweet  air  of  heaven  and  bottles  himself  up  with  his 
own  breath  in  a  close  room  for  long  hours  or  even 
days  without  respite.  The  responsibility  for  this 
grave  mistake  lies  with  the  stupid  common  name 
for  catarrh,  a  "cold".  The  subject  who,  stay- 
ing in  the  house  with  tightly  closed  windows, 
excuses  himself  with  the  complacent  remark,  "  I 
do  not  go  out  in  cold  weather,  for  I  take  cold 
easily  and  cannot  stand  a  draught",  would  prob- 
ably be  greatly  astonished  to  be  told  that  the 
true  rendering  of  his  remark  would  be,  "  I  take 
cold  easily  because  I  do  not  go  out  in  cold  weather, 
and  so  cannot  stand  a  draught."  And  still 
further  would  he  be  surprised  to  learn  that  he 
might  add  truthfully,  "  I  predispose  myself  to 
colds  by  eating  too  much  and  too  rich  food ;  by 
wearing  too  much  and  too  heavy  clothing;  by 
living  in  too  hot  a  house,  bathing  in  water  too 
warm,  and  breathing  air  of  a  quality  altogether 
too  bad." 


32  Breathing 

It  cannot  be  impressed  too  strongly  that, 
despite  its  misleading  nickname,  catarrh  is  not  a 
temperature-disease  like  sunstroke  or  chilblains. 
Nansen  in  the  frozen  north,  living  through  an  arctic 
winter  in  a  snow-hut,  had  plenty  of  cold,  but 
never  had  a  "cold",  not  even  after  a  plunge  into 
the  icy  sea.  The  exciting  cause  of  a  coryza  may 
be  an  exposure  to  cold,  but  back  of  such  ex- 
posure will  lie  the  main  factor  of  causation,  the 
state  of  the  system  itself.  Predisposing  causes 
have  already  been  enumerated,  and,  according  to 
the  writer's  observation,  a  potent  determining 
cause  is  exposure  to  breath-poisoning.  A  coryza 
comes  after  an  evening  at  some  public  entertain- 
ment in  January.  The  victim  blames  his  afflic- 
tion upon  the  clerk  of  the  weather,  when  really 
it  should  lie  at  the  door  of  the  architect  of  the 
theatre  or  hall.  The  same  acquaintance  with 
Boreas  made  over  a  pair  of  skates  in  the  park 
would  have  been  followed  by  no  coryza  at  all. 

To  correct  a  morbid  susceptibility  to  catarrh, 
the  scheme  lies  not  in  trying  to  keep  cold  air  out, 
which  necessarily  means  to  keep  foul. air  in, 
but  in  training  the  relaxed  nerves  and  blood- 
vessels of  the  skin  to  brace  up  and  take  without 
shivering  the  impact  of  cold.  Fortunate  is  he, 
trained  by  wise  parents  in  early  childhood  to 
the  daily  cold  bath.  By  this  means  as  by  no 
other  the  nervous  system  is  taught  not  only  not 
to  shrink  from  slaps  of  cold,  but  to  exult  in  the 
play,  the  rougher  the  better.  The  sport  of  a 


Breathing  33 

big  sponge  and  the  Croton  just  as  it  comes  from 
the  cold  tap  is  and  has  been,  since  Croton  was, 
this  writer's  morning  joy  in  January  as  in  July. 
If  not  learned  in  childhood,  the  habit  still  can  be 
acquired  in  later  life,  and  should  so  be  by  the 
victim  of  catarrh.  The  first  essays,  however, 
should  be  in  summer,  so  that  when  comes  cold 
weather,  the  nerves  will  already  have  become 
used  to  the  new  habit.  The  bath  always  should 
be  followed  by  a  vigorous  rubbing  with  a  coarse 
towel. 

Besides  cold  bathing,  outdoor  exercise  in  cold 
weather,  special  exercise  in  breathing  (see  the 
chapter  on  physical  exercise),  and  singing  are 
useful  anti-catarrhal  measures.  In  every  way 
foul  or  dusty  air  is  to  be  avoided,  and  pure  air 
only,  be  it  warm  or  be  it  cold,  permitted  access 
to  the  sensitive  mucous  membrane.  And  the 
cold  bath,  sanitation  of  breathing,  and  care  of 
the  general  health  will  be  found  fully  as  effective 
in  warding  off  "colds"  as  pottering  with  sprays, 
gargles,  and  snuffs. 

Failure  of  breathing,  from  other  cause  than 
disease  or  injury,  occurs  in  syncope,  as  in  an 
ordinary  faint  or  in  chloroform-inhalation,  and 
in  suffocation,  as  in  drowning  or  the  accidental 
smothering  of  infants  in  bed.  In  syncope  the 
failure  is  primarily  of  the  heart,  but  in  either 
case  the  means  of  resuscitation  is  the  same — 
artificial  respiration.  Respiration  can  be  forced 


34  Breathing 

artificially,  and  return  of  lung-play  will  bring 
about  renewal  of  heart-action  also.  There  are 
several  ways  of  conducting  artificial  respiration, 
all  based  on  the  same  principle,  namely,  of  con- 
tracting and  expanding  the  chest  in  imitation  of 
the  natural  process.  The  simplest  method  is  to 
squeeze  the  chest  with  outspread  hands  and 
then  let  go  again.  In  such  case  the  inward 
pressure  deflates  and  the  natural  spring  of  the 
ribs  inflates,  in  turn.  This  process,  however, 
only  partially  accomplishes  its  purpose  and  is 
ineffective  for  other  cases  than  simple  fainting. 
For  grave  cases,  such  as  chloroform-syncope  or 
drowning,  the  so-called  "Sylvester"  method 
should  be  employed.  The  subject  is  laid  supine, 
with  a  roll  of  clothing  under  the  back  just  below 
the  shoulder-blades,  so  that  the  chest  shall  be 
thrown  out  while  the  head  hangs  low.  The 
operator,  then,  standing  or  kneeling  at  the  head, 
grasps  the  forearms  near  the  elbow,  and  draws 
the  arms  to  full  extension  overhead.  Holding 
them  so  for  two  seconds,  he  then  bends  them 
downwards,  flexing  at  the  elbow,  and  with  the 
flexure  makes  firm  pressure  on  the  chest-walls 
at  the  sides.  After  two  seconds  of  such  squeezing, 
he  stretches  the  arms  again  overhead,  and  so 
continues  the  motions  rhythmically  at  the  rate 
of  about  fifteen  a  minute.  In  this  procedure  an 
all-important  matter  is  to  keep  the  tongue  from 
falling  back  and  plugging  the  throat.  If  the 
operator  be  alone  he  must  rely  on  the  position 


Breathing  35 

of  the  head,  as  described,  to  counteract  the 
tendency,  but  if  there  be  a  bystander,  as  ordi- 
narily is  the  case  (often  too  many  of  them),  he 
may  be  put  to  service  for  the  following  simple 
trick:  Standing  or  kneeling  by  the  subject's 
waist,  the  assistant  spreads  his  hands  around 
the  neck,  gets  his  thumbs  against  the  angle  of 
the  lower  jaw  from  behind  and  then  by  the 
purchase  so  obtained  pushes  the  bone  gently 
forward  as  far  as  its  articulation  will  permit,  and 
holds  it  steadily  in  such  position.  With  the  jaw 
thus  pressed  forward  it  is  mechanically  impossible 
for  the  tongue  to  block  the  throat. 

Even  though  there  be  not  the  slightest  sign  of 
life,  artificial  respiration  should  be  conitnued 
always  for  at  least  twenty  minutes  before  the 
case  is  abandoned  as  hopeless.  It  is  astonishing 
how  very  dead  indeed  a  subject  can  appear  and 
yet,  through  persistency,  be  snatched  from 
Azrael's  grasp.  The  writer  recalls  with  grim 
satisfaction  how  once,  in  his  early  professional 
days,  he  disobeyed  the  direction  of  his  senior 
to  give  up,  with  the  result  that  the  seemingly 
dead  chloroform-subject  left  the  operating-room 
as  a  man,  on  his  feet,  instead  of  as  a  "subject", 
indeed,  on  a  stretcher. 

If  there  be  the  faintest  flicker  of  life,  no  matter 
how  fleeting,  the  respiration  is  patiently  to  be  con- 
tinued indefinitely.  In  cases  of  heavy  poisoning, 
as  by  opium  or  by  illuminating-gas,  life  may  hang 
by  a  thread  for  hours  or  even  days,  and  that 


36  Breathing 

thread  be  kept  from  snapping  by  artificial  respira- 
tion alone. 

In  cases  of  drowning,  there  is  much  else  to  do 
besides  making  the  artificial  respiration.  The 
moment  the  body  is  reached,  it  is  first  to  be 
turned  prone,  the  shoulders  raised,  and  the  jaw 
slipped  forward  as  just  described.  At  the  same 
time  pressure  is  to  be  made  upon  the  chest.  By 
this  means  any  contained  water  is  permitted  to 
run  out.  If  there  be  assistance  at  hand  and 
shelter  near  by,  the  body  is  quickly  to  be  borne 
under  cover,  the  wet  clothing  to  be  cut  off, 
the  skin  dried  and  warmed,  while  all  the  time 
artificial  respiration,  begun  at  once,  continues 
steadily  in  progress.  Delay  is  dangerous  in  the 
highest  degree,  so  that  if  the  nearest  house  be 
far  away  and  no  means  of  transportation  at  hand, 
time  should  not  be  wasted,  but  artificial  respira- 
tion be  instituted  then  and  there  on  the  beach, 
the  subject  being  sheltered,  dried,  and  warmed 
as  best  may  be.  Besides  the  drying  and  warm- 
ing, the  limbs  should  be  rubbed  vigorously  by 
the  dry  hands,  the  strokes  being  from  the  ex- 
tremities upward,  so  as  to  drive  the  surface  blood 
toward  the  heart. 

In  cases  of  ordinary  fainting,  as  from  horror, 
the  sight  of  blood,  or  the  oppression  of  vitiated 
air,  heroic  measures  are  rarely  necessary.  The 
subject  should  be  laid  on  the  back  in  cool  fresh 
air,  the  clothing  loosened  about  neck,  chest,  and 
waist,  and  perhaps  a  little  cold  water  snapped 


Breathing  37 

upon  the  face.  Smelling-salts,  or,  in  their  absence, 
some  vinegar  on  a  handkerchief,  may  be  held 
to  the  nose,  but  care  should  be  taken  not  to  press 
strong  ammonia  too  ardently  upon  the  nostrils, 
lest,  in  the  unconsciousness  of  the  faint,  a  dan- 
gerously irritating  dose  be  inhaled.  If  there  be 
no  signs  of  revival  after  these  simple  measures, 
pressure  may  be  made  upon  the  chest ;  if  this  also 
fails,  then  regular  artificial  respiration  by  the 
Sylvester  method  should  be  instituted  at  once. 

As  a  general  adjuvant  to  the  well-being  of  the 
breathing  apparatus,  and  indeed  of  the  economy 
generally,  singing  is  an  exercise  of  distinct  value. 
It  develops  and  holds  pervious  the  various  pas- 
sages and  chambers  of  the  respiratory  tract  from 
brow  to  diaphragm,  and  trains  and  practises  in 
deep,  full  breathing.  Entirely  apart,  therefore, 
from  all  idea  of  making  vocalists,  singing  should 
be  taught  and  practised  in  the  family  circle  by 
all,  be  the  voices  good,  bad,  or  indifferent.  The 
natural  instinct  of  children  to  sing  should  be 
fostered,  and  choruses  of  simple  music,  of  a 
range  well  within  the  limit  for  little  ones,  should 
be  a  regular  feature  of  the  twilight  hour. 

Whoso  essays  to  sing,  whether  child  or  adult, 
and  whether  simply  for  fun  or  to  become  a  vocalist, 
will  do  well  to  start  aright  by  early  lessons  from 
a  competent  teacher  in  the  art  of  delivering  the 
voice.  In  singing,  as  in  every  other  art,  it  is 
far  easier  to  learn  than  to  unlearn,  and  a  faulty 


38  Breathing 

method    of    singing    once   acquired   is   hard   to 
break. 

Singing  never  should  be  carried  to  excess,  nor 
the  voice  strained  by  trying  to  climb  too  high 
or  to  grovel  too  low.  One  should  not  sing  when, 
in  adolescence,  the  voice  is  changing,  or  when 
suffering  from  a  cold,  whether  in  head,  throat,  or 
chest,  or  in  foul  or  dusty  or  tobacco-impreg- 
nated air.  Singing,  besides  being  a  healthful 
exercise,  is  an  ennobling  art,  and  has  the  right 
to  demand  that  the  environment  of  its  practice 
be  ever  of  the  domain  of  the  true,  the  beautiful, 
and  the  good. 


CHAPTER  II 
EATING 

Govern  well  thy  appetite,  lest  Sin 

Surprise  thee,  and  her  black  attendant,  Death 

— MILTON 

FROM  a  microscopic  speck  of  protoplasm  to  a 
mushroom  or  a  man,  an  oak  or  an  elephant,  is  a 
far  cry,  yet  such  is  the  way  of  life — growth  from 
an  infinitesimal  germ  to  the  adult  form,  whatever 
it  be.  In  such  growth  it  is  from  food  that  the 
developing  plant  or  animal  builds  its  structure, 
and  again  it  is  from  food  that  the  mature  organ- 
ism renews  its  substance  and  gets  heat  and 
power  for  the  running  of  its  machinery. 

To  appreciate  the  rationale  of  the  dietetics  of 
man,  there  must  first  be  understood  the  essential 
features  of  the  nutritive  principles'  contained  in 
the  food  of  that  subject — the  foodstuffs,  as  such 
principles  are  called — and  the  main  facts  in  the 
story  of  animal  nutrition. 

The  foodstuffs  are  necessarily  organic  princi- 
ples, for  while  the  plant  can  make  organic  matter 
out  of  inorganic  elements,  just  this  the  animal 
cannot  do  at  all.  The  thing  of  legs  and  loco- 

39 


40  Eating 

motion,  of  spine  and  speech,  can  build  his  organic 
walls  only  out  of  organic  bricks  ruthlessly  ripped 
from  existing  walls  of  other  animals  or  plants. 

Man  eats  a  great  variety  of  food,  but  the 
principles  therein  contained  are  few  in  kind,  and 
may  all  be  typified  by  the  following  substances: 
white-of-egg,  calves'-foot  jelly,  butter,  honey,  and 
arrowroot. 

White-of-egg  typifies  proteids,  the  albuminous 
bodies  that  constitute  the  organic  basis  of  the 
actively  living  tissues  of  plants  and  animals. 
Proteids  are  of  complex  and  indeterminate  com- 
position, but,  among  their  many  constituents, 
contain  the  element  nitrogen,  a  circumstance  of 
weighty  import,  as  will  appear  later. 

Jelly  typifies  albuminoids,  a  small  and  incon- 
sequential class  of  bodies  occurring  as  the  or- 
ganic basis  of  the  inert,  fibrous  tissues  of  animals, 
such  as  bone,  cartilage,  tendon,  and  connective 
tissue.  As  the  class-name  imports,  these  bodies 
are  closely  related  to  albuminous  proteids,  and, 
like  proteids,  they  contain  nitrogen.  It  is  un- 
fortunate that  the  name  "albuminoid"  has 
been  applied  also  to  proteids.  Gelatin  is  the 
principal  example  of  an  albuminoid. 

Butter,  honey,  and  arrowroot  typify,  respect- 
ively, fats,  sugars,  and  starches,  familiar  sub- 
stances all.  These  several  principles  simply 
represent  inert  material  manufactured  by  plant 
or  animal  for  fuel  use,  and  held  in  storage  for 
fuel  purpose,  like  so  much  coal  or  wood  in  a 


Eating  41 

house-cellar.  Fats,  sugars,  and  starches  are 
bodies  of  simple  and  fixed  composition  and  con- 
tain absolutely  no  nitrogen,  but  only  the  three 
common  elements,  carbon,  hydrogen,  and  oxygen. 
The  foodstuffs,  then,  are  of  two  general  kinds, 
contradistinguished  both  by  representation  and 
by  composition.  On  the  one  hand  is  the  group 
of  the  proteids  and  albuminoids,  bodies  repre- 
senting the  organic  basis  of  life  and  containing 
the  element  nitrogen,  and  on  the  other  is  the 
group  of  the  fats,  sugars,  and  starches,  bodies 
representing  organic  fuel-material,  only,  and  con- 
taining no  nitrogen.  For  convenience,  proteids 
and  albuminoids  are  commonly  designated  as 
the  nitrogenous  food-principles,  and  the  fats, 
sugars,  and  starches  as  the  non-nitrogenous. 

As  to  the  story  of  nutrition,  one  would  imagine 
it  to  be  very  simple.  It  concerns  mainly  two 
functions,  on  the  one  hand  the  building  and 
renewal  of  tissue,  and,  on  the  other,  the  supply- 
ing of  energy  for  conversion  into  heat,  motion, 
and  the  doing  of  vital  work;  and  two  groups  of 
foodstuffs  are  given,  representing,  respectively, 
the  substance  of  tissue  and  fuel-material.  Natu- 
rally, therefore,  one  would  say,  tissue-principles 
for  tissue-building,  and  fuel-principles  for  fuel 
service ;  and,  in  the  main,  such  prediction  would 
be  verified.  But  the  facts  are  not  rigidly  ac- 
cording to  scheme,  for  nature  rarely  works  along 
exact  lines.  If  the  mysterious  dame  "abhors  a 


42  Eating 

vacuum",  likewise  does  she  despise  a  limitation, 
and  dearly  love  to  mix  matters. 

In  the  first  item,  that  of  tissue-building  and 
renewal,  the  case  is,  indeed,  simple.  Tissue  is 
nitrogenous,  so  that,  of  course,  only  nitrogenous 
food  can  serve  for  its  making;  but,  of  the  two 
kinds  of  nitrogenous  principles,  proteids  and 
albuminoids,  behold,  proteids  only  are  of  avail! 
Why  this  is  so  is  unknown,  since  albuminoid  is 
equally  nitrogenous  with  proteid;  but  so  it  is, — 
proteid  and  proteid  alone  can  fulfill  the  high 
function  of  furnishing  the  material  basis  of  life. 
Gelatin  cannot  even  go  to  make  the  very  kind 
of  tissue  of  which  itself  is  a  derivate.  Alongside 
of  its  brother  proteid,  gelatin  stands  as  a  prince 
of  the  blood  whose  escutcheon  bears  the  ' '  bend 
sinister".  Such  a  one,  though  of  royal  lineage, 
may  never  aspire  to  the  throne.  This  nutritive 
disability  on  the  part  of  gelatin  is  of  little  practical 
consequence,  since  there  is  not  much  jelly  in 
food,  and  very  little  gelatin  in  jelly — rarely  more 
than  three  per  cent,  the  rest  being  water! 

Tissue-nourishment  is  a  duplex  function.  The 
growing  organism  must  have  material  out  of 
which  to  lay  on  the  increment  of  growth,  but 
also  immature  and  mature  organism,  both, 
must  have  pabulum  to  meet  a  constant  demand 
for  the  renewal  of  living  substance.  For  proto- 
plasm— the  physical  basis  of  life — in  and  by  the 
very  act  of  living,  ceaselessly  changes  its  sub- 
stance. The  organic  cell  may  be  likened  to  a 


Eating  43 

rock-bound  whirlpool  in  a  river:  the  form  has 
place  within  fixed  walls,  and  endures;  the  sub- 
stance is  fcrever  fleeting.  This  process  of  inte- 
gration and  disintegration  of  living  matter  goes 
on  throughout  life  at  a  steady  rate  for  the  indi- 
vidual, unaffected  by  extrinsic  conditions.  It 
is  not  at  all  related  to  work,  and  pursues  an  even 
tenor,  be  the  subject  on  his  feet  in  the  open, 
racing  at  top  speed,  or  prone  under  shelter,  in 
the  profound  rest  of  sleep. 

The  amount  of  proteid  nutriment  necessary 
for  growth  is,  of  course,  commensurate  with 
the  growth.  The  certain  steady  supply  needed 
for  the  renewal  of  substance  is  small — hardly 
more  than  one-tenth  of  the  requirement  for 
fuel-food. 

The  other  great  function  of  nutrition,  the 
evolution  of  energy  to  meet  the  call  for  heat  and 
power,  differs  from  the  function  of  tissue-nourish- 
ment in  that  it  can  be  subserved  by  any  and  all 
foodstuffs.  The  requirement  is  simply  for  fuel: 
whatsoever  burns  can  be  put  to  fuel-use,  and  all 
organic  matter  burns.  So  in  a  battle  royal 
between  elephant  and  tiger,  there  is  the  picture 
of  a  ponderous  engine  driven  by  the  burning  of 
starch  and  sugar  opposed  to  one  whose  swifter 
and  more  sinister  power  is  generated  by  proteid 
combustion. 

But  while  any  foodstuff  can  serve  as  body- 
fuel,  yet,  despite  the  example  of  the  carnivore, 
there  is  an  intrinsic  objection  to  the  use  of  pro- 


44  Eating 

teid  for  the  purpose.  The  objection  is  strong — 
so  strong  that  it  is  instinctively  recognized  by 
omnivorous  animals,  such  as  man,  who,  whenever 
they  can  get  it,  resort  largely  to  the  vegetable 
products,  starch  and  sugar,  for  fuel-food.  The 
objection  lies  in  the  simple  fact  that  nitrogen 
does  not  burn.  The  atmosphere  is  a  mixture  of 
nitrogen  and  oxygen;  accordingly,  were  nitrogen 
inflammable  like  hydrogen,  a  single  stroke  of 
flint  on  steel  would  blast  the  earth.  But  nitrogen 
does  not  burn,  and  proteid  contains  nitrogen. 
Proteid  also  contains  the  common  combustible 
elements,  carbon  and  hydrogen,  so  that  its  mol- 
ecule may  be  likened  to  a  frame  house  with  a 
brick  chimney.  When  comes  conflagration,  walls, 
roofs,  and  floor  (carbon  and  hydrogen)  go  up 
in  smoke,  but  the  chimney  (nitrogen),  gathering 
about  it  some  charred  remains  of  woodwork,  stands 
defiant  of  flame  as  a  solid  bit  of  ruin  requiring 
special  service  of  pick  and  cart  for  its  removal. 

So  in  the  disintegration  of  proteid,  while  much 
of  the  carbon  and  the  hydrogen  of  the  molecule 
oxidizes  fully  and  disappears  as  carbon  dioxide 
and  water,  the  nitrogen,  together  with  a  moiety 
of  the  other  elements,  remains  as  a  residual  waste. 
This  nitrogenous  residue,  then,  passes  through  a 
series  of  metamorphoses  of  which  some  of  the 
intermediary  products  are  distinctly  noxious,  and 
finally  is  made  over  by  the  liver  into  a  certain 
crystalline  waste-product  to  be  excreted  by  the 
kidneys — the  substance  urea. 


Eating  45 

Omnivorous  man,  then,  who  in  his  omnivorous 
privilege  has  a  choice  of  foodstuffs,  does  not, 
when  wise,  feed  his  furnace-fires  with  proteid, 
any  more  than  he  would  stoke  the  furnace  of  his 
house  with  fine  brass-bound  cabinet  furniture. 
The  metal  fittings,  in  such  case,  would  not  burn, 
and  their  warped  and  twisted  shapes  would  only 
clog  the  grate,  while  costly  carved  rosewood  or 
polished  mahogany  would  give  no  more  heat 
than  plain  pine  sticks.  In  other  words,  the  oxida- 
tion of  the  large  amount  of  proteid  necessary 
for  fuel  service  would  mean  a  serious  tax  upon 
the  energies  of  liver  and  kidneys,  and  an  impreg- 
nation of  blood  and  tissues  with  a  considerable 
proportion  of  more  or  less  poisonous  waste- 
products,  all  for  the  sake  of  a  combustion  yield 
of  energy  that  could  be  got  just  as  well  out  of 
simpler  and  safer  fuels. 

Such  simpler  fuels  are,  of  course,  the  natural 
fuel-stuffs,  the  fats,  the  sugars,  and  the  starches, 
stuffs  which,  being  destitute  of  nitrogen,  are 
wholly  free  from  the  proteid  objection.  These 
non-nitrogenous  principles,  containing,  as  they 
do,  only  carbon,  hydrogen  and  oxygen,  oxidize 
completely  within  the  system — burn  clear,  so  to 
speak — yielding  as  combustion-products  only  car- 
bon dioxide  and  water,  products  innocent,  vola- 
tile, and  easily  eliminated  by  the  lungs  or  other 
emunctories. 

The  daily  requisition  of  the  organism  for  fuel- 
food  is  relatively  large — ten  times  that  for  tissue 


46  Eating 

aliment.  Moreover,  by  the  very  nature  of  the 
case,  it  is  variable,  in  which  respect  it  differs  from 
the  call  for  tissue-food.  The  subtle  act  of  living, 
subserved  by  proteid,  moves  ever  with  quiet 
dignity  at  an  even  pace,  but  the  need  for  heat 
and  power  necessarily  varies  with  conditions. 
Exposure  to  cold  will  call  for  more  fire  in  the 
furnace :  high  pressure  in  the  engine,  as  for  the 
doing  of  an  arduous  physical  task,  for  more 
steam  in  the  boiler.  Accordingly,  while  the 
song  of  substance  for  substance'  sake  is  ever  the 
one  stanza  sung  on  the  one  key,  the  song  of 
substance  for  energy's  sake  may  have  anywhere 
from  one  to  half  a  dozen  verses  and  be  pitched 
high  or  low  to  suit  the  voice  of  the  individual 
singer. 

Thus  are  the  several  foodstuffs  applied  to  the 
two  main  functions  of  nutrition.  But  in  the 
case  of  proteids  there  is  now  to  be  noted  an 
additional  alimentary  purpose.  For  some  reason 
known  only  to  nature,  nutrition  demands  that 
there  always  shall  be  in  free  circulation  a  certain 
excess  of  proteid  over  and  above  what  is  required 
for  tissue-renewal,  which  excess  is  finally  to 
suffer  oxidation  without  ever  becoming  living 
tissue.  Apparently  this  "circulating  proteid" 
operates  in  some  subtle  way  to  determine  and 
regulate  the  nutritive  processes  generally.  And 
now  happens  a  curious  circumstance.  The 
prince  of  the  "bend  sinister" — the  albuminoids— 


Eating  47 

may  not  aspire  to  the  throne,  but  there  is  nothing 
to  prevent  him  from  offering  his  life,  on  occasion, 
in  vicarious  sacrifice  for  that  of  his  better-born 
brother.  So  gelatin,  which  cannot  replace  pro- 
teid  for  the  building  of  tissue,  can  and  may,  to 
a  considerable  extent,  at  least,  serve  as  a  proteid- 
substitute  for  this  obscure  administrative  func- 
tion. And  herein  lies  the  one  dietetic  service  of 
gelatin.  Gelatin  is  lighter  than  proteid  and  more 
easily  digested.  Accordingly,  when  the  stomach 
is  deranged  so  that  it  cannot  handle  a  full  allow- 
ance of  proteid,  the  deficiency  of  nitrogenous 
food  can  be  eked  out  by  gelatin.  The  gelatin 
will  replace  proteid  for  "circulating"  service, 
and  so  will  "spare"  for  the  higher  function  of 
tissue-nourishment  such  proteid  as  may  be  on 
hand. 

An  item  of  nutrition-service  in  which  all  the 
foodstuffs  take  part,  though  in  different  propor- 
tion, is  that  of  contributing  to  the  common 
savings-bank  account  of  the  economy.  So  much 
of  consumed  foodstuff  of  any  sort  as  is  not  needed 
for  its  proper  function  may  either  go  to  waste 
by  oxidation,  each  after  the  manner  of  its  kind, 
or  be  converted  into  body-fat  and  stored.  Sugars 
and  starches  are  most  easily  so  made  over  into 
adipose  substance ;  next  fats ;  and,  least  readily, 
proteids.  The  formation  of  fat  from  proteid  has 
been  disputed,  but  yet  seems  well  proven.  The 
combustible  portion  of  the  proteid -molecule  simply 


48  Eating 

turns  into  fat  instead  of  oxidizing,  while  the  nitrog- 
enous, incombustible  portion  degenerates  into 
urea  in  the  usual  way.  Gelatin  occurs  in  the 
dietary  in  such  small  proportion  that  it  does 
riot  count  in  the  present  connection. 

Even  when  formed  from  fat  itself,  body-fat  is, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  an  original  manu- 
facture and  not  a  mere  deposit.  Each  animal 
makes  fat  after  its  own  kind,  and  human  fat  is 
neither  lard  nor  suet. 

A  last  item  of  nutrition  is  the  making  good  of 
direct  losses  of  substance.  By  the  various  trans- 
pirations, secretions,  and  excretions,  there  is  con- 
stant loss  to  the  system  of  water,  mineral  salts, 
and  dissolved  albuminous  substance.  The  loss  of 
water  is  made  up  by  the  water  contained  in 
food  and  drink ;  that  of  salts,  by  the  similar  salts 
present  in  food,  supplemented  by  a  certain  addi- 
tion of  common  salt,  and  that  of  albuminous 
substance  by  a  new  stock  made  from  the  proteids 
of  the  food. 

Nutrition,  then,  embraces  the  following  items: 
first,  the  renewal  of  the  substance  of  life  by  the 
substance  of  proteid  food;  secondly,  the  utiliza- 
tion of  energy  got  from  the  direct  combustion  of 
food,  preferably  of  nature's  fuel-foods,  fats, 
sugars,  and  starches;  thirdly,  the  regulation  of 
the  nutritive  processes  by  some  subtle  influence 
of  freely  circulating  proteid,  or,  in  partial  sub- 
stitution, albuminoid;  fourthly,  the  formation 


Eating  49 

from  any  and  all  foodstuffs,  in  varying  propor- 
tion, of  a  reserve  stock  of  body-fuel  in  the  shape 
of  body-fat;  and,  fifthly,  the  making  good  of 
direct  losses  of  water,  salts,  and  albuminous  sub- 
stance by  corresponding  direct  renewal  of  supply. 

• 

So  much  for  the  theory  of  nutrition.  And  now 
for  the  practice  of  alimentation,  quite  another 
story,  since  alimentation  must  take  into  account 
many  other  considerations  besides  those  of  the 
chemistry  of  nutrition  and  the  foodstuffs.  The 
first  consideration  is  the  matter  of  side-issues 
affecting  the  several  foodstuffs  themselves. 

First  as  to  proteids:  These  principles,  indis- 
pensable as  they  are  in  nutrition,  are  in  every 
way  the  most  trying  for  proper  disposal.  Not 
only  are  they  a  tax  upon  liver  and  kidneys,  by 
reason  of  their  peculiar  behavior  in  oxidation, 
but  at  the  very  gateway  of  the  system,  in  the 
alimentary  canal  itself,  they  easily  become  bur- 
densome or  even  noxious.  Their  digestion  is 
complicated,  and  absorption  neither  prompt  nor 
complete,  about  one-tenth  escaping  absorption 
altogether  and  going  to  waste.  Failure  of  ab- 
sorption is  especially  apt  to  occur  where  there  is 
much  indigestible  matter  present,  as  is  the  case 
particularly  with  vegetable  food.  The  indiges- 
tible network-  of  vegetable  fibre  entangles  the 
contained  proteid,  which  is  not  sufficiently  diffu- 
sible to  work  out  through  the  meshes.  Vegetable 
foods  are  at  best  relatively  poor  in  proteids,  so 


50  Eating 

that,  for  a  double  reason,  vegetable  fare  furnishes 
a  low  percentage  of  proteid  aliment  for  absorp- 
tion. 

If  proteid  be  not  properly  digested,  it  decom- 
poses in  the  alimentary  canal,  developing  pro- 
.ducts  more  or  less  noxious.  Such  products,  ab- 
sorbed into  the  blood,  poison  with  more  or  less 
severity,  producing  fever  and  other  malaise. 
Many  of  the  nondescript  febrile  seizures  with 
digestive  derangement,  glibly  ascribed  to  "  ma- 
laria", are  nothing  but  cases  of  "auto-intoxica- 
tion" from  poisonous  derivates  of  decomposing 
proteid  food. 

Proteid  aliment  seems  to  have  a  distinct  in- 
fluence on  temperament,  tending  to  the  develop- 
ment of  that  quality  which,  in  mild  degree, 
appears  as  aggressiveness,  and  in  pronounced 
grade  as  ferocity.  The  solid  matter  of  flesh  is 
practically  all  proteid,  so  that  meat-eating,  which 
is  synonymous  with  proteid-eating,  is  especially 
responsible  for  the  belligerent  spirit.  A  bear  or 
a  boar  that  is  tractable  enough  while  grain-fed 
becomes  ugly  and  dangerous  when  given  meat, 
and  what  parent  is  there  who  has  not  ' '  viewed 
with  alarm"  how  old  Adam  enters  into  baby 
along  with  the  first  spoonful  of  chopped  beef? 

This  effect  of  meat  has  been  attributed  by 
some  to  the  extractives  of  the  flesh  (certain 
innutritious,  but  stimulating,  constituents  of 
flesh  that  give  to  meat  its  flavor),  but  since  it  is 
declared  that  the  extractives,  by  themselves,  are 


Eating  5 1 

devoid  of  the  influence  in  question,  the  cause 
would  seem  to  lie,  indeed,  in  the  mere  circum- 
stance of  proteid  abundance  in  the  fare. 

Excess  of  proteid  in  the  dietary  tends  to  dis- 
eases of  nutrition,  such  as  gout,  calculus,  etc., 
because  of  the  clogging  of  the  system  with  the 
solid  waste-products  of  proteid  disintegration. 

There  is  no  dietetic  difference  between  indi- 
vidual proteids,  whether  of  animal  or  of  vege- 
table source. 

Gelatin,  practically  the  one  dietetic  represen- 
tative of  the  albuminoids,  behaves  like  an  easily 
digestible  and  easily  assimilable  proteid.  It  has, 
in  kind,  all  the  proteid  potencies,  except  as  to 
the  nutritive  virtue  of  assimilation  into  living 
substance,  but  is  present  in  the  ordinary  dietary 
in  such  small  proportion  that  it  has  little  oppor- 
tunity of  showing  any  individual  characteristics. 

The  non-nitrogenous  fuel-foods  —  the  fats, 
sugars,  and  starches — make  in  many  ways  just 
the  opposite  picture  to  that  of  the  nitrogenous 
principles.  Digestion,  in  their  case,  is  simple, 
absorption  quick,  easy,  and  thorough,  disposal 
by  oxidation  complete,  and  end-products  harm- 
less, volatile,  and  easily  eliminated. 

Fats  are  animal  and  vegetable.  Animal  fats 
are  commonly  solid  or  semisolid,  as  witness  butter 
and  lard,  while  those  of  vegetable  origin  are 
mostly  oils,  such  as  olive-oil.  A  notable  excep- 
tion in  this  regard  is  the  fat  of  the  cocoa-bean, 
which  is  a  firm  solid  known  as  cocoa-butter. 


52  Eating 

The  digestion  of  fats  is  little  other  than  simple 
emulsification, — that  is,  fine  mechanical  subdi- 
vision. 

Fat  has  the  highest  fuel-value  of  any  of  the 
foodstuffs,  its  proportionate  yield  of  energy  being 
twice  that  of  the  sugars  and  starches.  In  the 
case  of  the  sugars  and  starches,  the  proportion 
of  hydrogen  and  oxygen  in  the  molecule  is  such 
that  the  hydrogen  is  already  fully  oxidized,  thus 
leaving  only  the  carbon  available  for  burning. 
In  the  case  of  the  fats,  however,  the  proportion 
of  oxygen  is  less,  so  that,  in  burning,  there  is 
hydrogen  as  well  as  carbon  waiting  to  be  satis- 
fied. Weight  for  weight,  therefore,  there  is  more 
combustible  matter  in  fat  than  in  sugar  or 
starch,  and  therefore  a  higher  yield  of  energy. 

But  fat,  despite  its  high  fuel-value,  is  held,  in 
practice,  at  a  low  food-value,  being  consumed  by 
most  persons  in  only  a  fraction  of  the  quantity  of 
combined  sugar  and  starch.  The  reason  for  this 
treatment  lies  in  the  intrinsic  quality  of  oleagi- 
nous substance.  Neither  palate  nor  stomach  of 
civilized  man  will  brook  fat  in  large  quantities. 
The  Eskimo  can  quaff  a  cup  of  train-oil,  or  the 
African  savage  bolt  a  lump  of  suet  with  the 
smile  of  relish,  but  not  so  the  European.  The 
son  of  civilization  can  take  fat  only  in  modera- 
tion and  mixed  always  with  other  substances, 
whereby  the  fat  undergoes  a  crude  emulsifying 
in  mastication.  Nevertheless  the  fuel-value  of 
the  food  is  attested  by  the  instinct  of  the  Es- 


Eating  53 

kimo — needing,  as  he  does,  all  the  heat  he  can 
generate — to  consume  large  quantities  of  oil  and 
blubber. 

There  is  practically  no  difference  in  food-value 
between  animal  and  vegetable  fats,  but  the 
former  are  the  more  readily  digestible.  The  heat 
of  cooking  affects  fat,  liberating  certain  fatty 
acids  which  are  more  or  less  irritating.  The  mere 
melting  of  a  fat  by  gentle  heat  does  not  produce 
this  change.  Because  of  the  action  of  high  heat, 
fats  of  all  kinds  are  more  digestible  raw  than 
cooked.  Thus  a  tender  stomach  may  accept 
butter  on  bread  but  revolt  at  the  fat  of  a  slice  of 
broiled  ham.  Fat  is  best  borne  in  emulsion,  as 
in  nature's  emulsion,  milk  or  cream,  or  in  man's 
emulsions  of  cod-liver  oil. 

Fat  is  a  very  common  subject  of  idiosyncrasy. 
Some  will  prefer  a  fat  cut  of  meat,  while  others 
will  carefully  dissect  away  every  particle  of  the 
hated  stuff,  and,  when  offered  sandwiches,  will 
complain,  like  the  carpenter  to  the  walrus,  that 
"  the  butter's  spread  too  thick. "  Others  still  have 
a  complete  abhorrence  of  fat  in  any  form;  will 
take  no  fat  of  meat,  nor  any  food  cooked  with 
much  fat,  nor  even  butter,  commonly  the  most 
agreeable  article  of  fat.  Such  cases  are  unfor- 
tunate, both  because  of  the  food-value  of  fat, 
and  of  the  intrinsic  objection  to  the  utter  rejec- 
tion of  any  one  distinct  kind  of  foodstuff.  In 
the  intricacies  of  digestion  are  many  interrela- 
tions which  are  liable  to  upset  if  any  one  member 


54  Eating 

of  the  alimentary  brotherhood  is  withdrawn  from 
service.  There  is  special  machinery  for  the 
digestion  of  fats,  which  is  liable  to  get  out  of 
gear  if  there  be  no  fat  to  digest. 

Many  who  abhor  what  may  be  called  obvious 
animal  fat,  such  as  butter  or  fat  bacon,  yet  do 
not  object  to  cream  or  to  any  edible  vegetable  fat. 
Such  persons  should  make  it  a  point  to  take  cream, 
dressed  salads,  olives,  nuts,  etc.,  in  order  to 
make  up  for  their  abstention  from  ordinary  ani- 
mal fats. 

Fats,  when  not  properly  digested,  turn  rancid 
in  the  alimentary  canal,  developing  acrid  pro- 
ducts. 

Sugar  and  starch  are  twin  stuffs — twin  in  com- 
position and  in  alimentary  purpose,  yet  with 
minor  points  of  difference.  Chemically,  the 
sugars  and  starches  belong  to  a  class  of  carbon 
compounds  where  the  hydrogen  and  oxygen  of 
the  molecule  are  in  the  same  proportion  as  in 
the  case  of  water.  Bodies  so  constituted  may 
be  considered  as  hydrates  of  carbon,  and  so  may 
be  called  carbohydrates.  From  the  point  of  view 
of  nutrition,  sugar  and  starch  do  not  need  to  be 
differentiated,  so  that  it  is  common  to  refer  to 
the  sugars  and  starches  of  the  dietary  as  the 
carbohydrates. 

In  the  process  of  digestion,  carbohydrates  of 
all  kinds — sugars,  starches,  and  certain  unim- 
portant congeners — are  converted,  or  "inverted" 
as  the  technical  term  goes,  into  certain  simple 


Eating  55 

forms  of  sugar,  mainly  grape-sugar  ("dextrose") 
and  fruit-sugar  ("  levulose").  This  "inversion" 
is,  chemically,  a  very  simple  affair,  and  actually 
begins  in  the  mouth,  during  mastication,  through 
the  action  of  a  digestive  ferment  contained  in 
the  saliva.  Arrested  in  the  stomach  by  the  acid- 
ity of  the  gastric  juice,  it  proceeds  anew  and  is 
completed  in  the  alimentary  canal  beyond  the 
lower  egress  of  the  stomach.  The  resulting  "  in- 
vert" sugar  is  then  quickly  and  greedily  ab- 
sorbed into  the  blood,  down  to  the  last  particle — 
a  swift  and  thorough  action  quite  in  contrast 
with  the  slow  and  imperfect  absorption  of 
digested  proteid. 

And  now  happens  a  singular  thing,  unparal- 
leled in  foodstuff  careers.  The  circulation  is  so 
arranged  that  all  blood  laden  with  products  of 
digestion  must  pass  through  the  substance  of  the 
liver,  as  through  a  filter,  before  gaining  access 
to  the  heart  for  further  distribution.  But  at 
this  toll-gate  upon  the  circulation-highway,  all 
sugary  itinerants  are  incontinently  seized,  held, 
stripped  of  their  outer  vestment  and  thrown  into 
the  strong  chamber,  thence  to  be  rehabilitated 
and  sent  forth  one  by  one  only,  at  regular  inter- 
vals, so  that  at  no  single  time  shall  there  be 
anything  like  a  crowd  of  such  itinerants  at 
march  together  on  the  turnpike.  Certain  of  the 
itinerants  are  held  up  yet  a  second  time  by  the 
muscles. 

This  metaphor  means  that  the  sugar  of  diges- 


56  Eating 

tion  is  seized  upon  by  the  liver-cells,  dehydrated 
into  a  sugar-like  product  called  glycogen,  which 
product  is  then  held  provisionally,  and  little  by 
little  only  is  doled  out  to  the  general  blood- 
supply.  The  muscles,  in  turn,  hold  up  some  of 
the  sugar  reaching  them  through  the  blood, 
reconvert  it  into  glycogen  and  store  it,  dissolved 
in  their  juices,  for  future  use  as  fuel.  The  con- 
sequence of  this  action  by  the  liver,  and,  to 
lesser  degree,  by  the  muscles,  is  that  there  never 
is  anything  like  a  flood  of  sugar  launched  upon 
the  blood  or  present  within  the  circulation  at  any 
one  time,  not  even  after  the  rush  of  absorbed 
digestion-products  from  a  heavily  saccharine  or 
farinaceous  meal.  The  sugar-proportion  in  the 
blood  is  kept  low — so  low  as  a  fraction,  only,  of 
one  per  cent. 

Why  this  discrimination  against  sugar?  Why 
are  the  digestion-products  of  proteids  and  fats 
permitted  free  access  to  the  circulation,  but 
those  of  carbohydrates  held  up  in  this  highway- 
man fashion?  The  teleologist  would  answer  as 
follows,  and  it  is  a  convenience  to  accept  his 
phrasings  even  if  judgment  be  withheld  on  his 
doctrine : 

The  hold-up  of  absorbed  sugar  is  for  a  double 
reason,  important  to  the  economy  in  both  as- 
pects. In  the  first  place,  sugar  differs  from 
proteids  and  from  fats  in  being  highly  diffusible. 
Accordingly,  any  considerable  percentage  of  the 
substance  in  the  blood  would  speedily  suffer  loss 


Eating  57 

by  depletion  and  excretion — would  be  wasted 
before  it  could  be  used.  In  the  second  place, 
sugar  again  differs  from  proteids  and  fats  in 
being  a  poison,  so  that  any  sugar-impregnation 
of  the  blood  above  the  normal  extremely  low 
percentage,  would  be  intrinsically  deleterious, 
even  seriously  so ! 

Doubtless  it  will  surprise  most  lay  readers  to 
hear  that  so  seemingly  innocent  a  substance  as 
the  sugar  of  the  grape  is  poisonous,  but  a  poison 
it  is,  and  of  such  potency  that  the  daily  service 
it  demands  of  Azrael  is  one  of  no  mean  proportion ! 
Indeed,  were  it  not  for  the  faithful  wardenship 
of  the  liver,  the  entire  race  of  bread-eating  man 
would  be  but  an  aggregation  of  semi-narcotized 
dullards,  drifting  hopelessly  to  the  doom  of  a 
not-far-off  comatose  ending ! 

Grape-sugar  is  an  alcohol — diglucosic  alcohol — 
and  when  present  in  the  blood  in  any  marked 
excess  over  the  natural  small  proportion,  as 
happens  in  the  disease  diabetes,  shows  itself  an 
alcohol  indeed  by  producing  wide-spread  dis- 
order of  nutrition,  with  semi-narcotic  symptoms. 
It  would  appear,  then,  that  nature  furnishes  a 
poisonous  alcohol  to  be  a  principal  foodstuff,  and 
most  ingeniously  provides  an  automatic  regu- 
lator to  prevent  intoxication.  Could  such  regu- 
lator but  seize,  hold,  and  convert  the  nimble 
and  elusive  offspring,  ethyl  alcohol,  as  it  does 
the  heavier-footed  sire,  grape-sugar,  from  how 
much  misery  might  mankind  be  spared ! 


5  8  Eating 

These  points  concerning  carbohydrate  assimi- 
lation are  not  only  dramatically  interesting,  but 
also  they  have  a  practical  bearing.  It  is  so 
common  as  to  be  entirely  consistent  with  health 
that  somewhere  in  the  complicated  process  of  the 
disposing  of  carbohydrate  aliment  the  machinery 
slips  a  cog,  as  it  were;  the  absorbed  sugar  is  not 
all  cared  for  as  it  should  be,  so  that  the  per- 
centage of  sugar  in  the  blood  rises  temporarily, 
it  may  be  for  only  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  just 
at  the  high  tide  of  digestion.  In  mild  cases  of 
this  fault  the  excess  of  sugar  is  not  enough  to 
poison;  no  symptoms  are  produced,  and  the 
error  of  assimilation  is  wholly  unsuspected  and 
is  discovered  only  by  accident,  as  by  an  exami- 
nation for  life-insurance.  But  from  this  mild 
degree  of  fault,  to  pronounced  diabetes,  occurs 
every  possible  grade  of  imperfect  disposal  of 
sugar  in  the  blood,  and  diabetes  itself  may  begin 
as  just  such  a  trifling  flaw  of  physiology.  When 
the  fault  progresses  to  a  point  where  the  accumu- 
lating sugar  begins  to  poison,  the  tell-tale  symp- 
toms are  a  dry,  pasty  mouth  and  an  overmaster- 
ing drowsiness,  occurring  just  when  absorption 
of  digested  food  is  at  its  height,  that  is,  from  an 
hour  to  an  hour  and  a  half  after  conclusion  of 
the  meal.  Such  symptoms  will  be  especially 
marked  if  the  meal  have  included  much  sac- 
charine food.  A  proper  chemical  examination, 
timed  so  as  to  cover  the  showings  of  the  period 
mentioned,  will  reveal  whether  or  not  the  symp- 


Eating  59 

toms  described  be  due  to  an  excess  of  sugar  in 
the  blood. 

In  mild  degrees  of  faulty  assimilation  of  sugar, 
the  error  can  be  circumvented  by  a  modification 
of  the  diet.  The  different  carbohydrates  do  not 
all  behave  alike  toward  the  fault  in  question. 
Those  most  obnoxious  to  malassimilation  are 
cane-sugar  and  grape-sugar;  fruit-sugar  is  much 
less  so,  and  least  of  all  are  milk-sugar  and  the 
starches.  Accordingly,  in  mild  cases  of  diabetic 
tendency,  the  subject  may  be  able  to  continue 
his  bread  and  butter  and  his  farinaceous  break- 
fast-food and  cream  if  only  he  will  season  with 
salt  and  pepper  instead  of  with  sugar.  He  may 
take  fruits  in  moderation,  except  grapes,  apples, 
apricots,  pears,  and  pineapples,  fruits  which  con- 
tain notable  amounts  of  either  grape-  or  cane- 
sugar.  The  writer  knows  of  a  case  in  point 
where  the  condition,  unsuspected,  had  progressed 
to  the  stage  of  overpowering  drowsiness  for  an 
hour  or  so  shortly  after  eating:  was  discovered 
by  the  accident  of  a  chance  chemical  testing, 
and  now,  for  over  a  quarter  of  a  century,  has 
been  perfectly  held  in  check  by  simple  absten- 
tion from  cane-  and  grape-sugar,  other  sugars  and 
all  starches  being  taken  freely.  The  subject  is 
in  perfect  health,  but  may  not  eat  sugar  on 
peril  of  his  life.  The  least  indulgence  in  cane- 
sugar  poisons  exactly  the  same  to-day  as  twenty- 
five  years  ago.  In  established  diabetes,  the 
dietary  restrictions  are  more  severe,  but  are  to 


60  Eating 

be  undertaken  by  the  physician,  since  each  case 
is  a  case  unto  itself. 

When  carbohydrates  are  not  properly  digested, 
they  are  liable  to  ferment  in  the  alimentary 
canal,  developing  acidity  and  flatulence, — sugars 
more  so  than  starches. 

Although  sugar  is  more  tasty  than  starch,  any 
considerable  quantity  cloys,  so  that  by  no  means 
so  much  sugar  can  be  eaten  as  starch. 

Reviewing  the  subject  of  the  carbohydrates, 
it  is  plain  that,  of  the  dietetic  twins,  sugar  and 
starch,  sugar  is  distinctly  the  leader  in  all  mis- 
chief! So  comes  it  about  that,  of  the  three 
non-nitrogenous  fuel-foodstuffs,  fat,  sugar,  and 
starch,  starch  is  the  stand-by,  preeminent  for 
negativeness,  pine-stick  of  pine-sticks! 

Reviewing  now  comprehensively  the  whole  sub- 
ject of  nutrition  and  the  individualities  of  the 
foodstuffs,  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  instinct 
guides  man  true.  Man  partakes  of  a  mixed 
animal  and  vegetable  diet  because  thereby  he 
gets  the  proper  proportion  of  the  several  food- 
stuffs without  waste.  Because  of  the  tax  that 
proteid  lays  upon  the  .economy  for  its  disposal, 
the  human  omnivore  eats  of  that  foodstuff  (or 
should  do  so)  no  more  than  the  very  moderate 
quantity  required  for  the  proper  proteid  func- 
tions. For  the  considerable  fuel-supply,  he  turns 
to  the  nature  fuels,  relying  most  on  the  one 
least  likely  to  make  trouble  in  large  quantity, 
namely,  starch.  Fat  and  sugar  he  consumes  as 


Eating  6 1 

supplementary  to  starch — of  service  as  flavoring 
agents  as  well  as  foods. 

Though  the  principles  that  should  guide  in 
alimentation  seem  simple  enough,  they  are  only 
too  often  strangely  disregarded.  The  errors  so 
committed  may  now  be  considered. 

Nothing  is  commoner  than  the  remark  to  the 
effect  that  such  a  one  takes  a  good  deal  of  exer- 
cise, or  does  hard  manual  work,  and  accordingly 
needs  a  liberal  allowance  of  animal  food.  Now, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  such  a  one  needs  nothing  of 
the  kind,  as  any  reader  of  the  foregoing  pages 
will  see  for  himself.  The  muscles  are  doing 
work,  it  is  true,  and  therefore  need  fuel  whence 
to  get  energy,  but,  as  already  seen,  it  is  not  pro- 
teid  but  fats,  sugars,  and  starches  that  make  the 
best  fuel-food.  The  athlete  or  the  laborer,  then, 
while  he  needs  more  food  than  the  sedentary 
occupant  of  a  desk,  needs  his  excess  in  the  form 
of  bread  and  butter  and  not  of  beef. 

The  erroneous  idea  in  this  case  is  a  corollary  of 
the  famous  theory  of  Liebig  that  a  muscle  in 
doing  work  gets  the  energy  therefor  from  oxida- 
tion of  its  own  substance.  This  theory,  once 
well  accepted,  has  gone  to  pieces  before  a  very 
simple  but  conclusive  observation.  Muscle-sub- 
stance is  proteid,  and  proteid  combustion  pro- 
duces proteid  ash  in  the  shape  of  the  non-burn- 
ing nitrogenous  waste-product,  urea,  already 
described.  If,  then,  muscle-energy  comes  from 


62  Eating 

the  oxidation  of  muscle-substance,  the  output  of 
urea  should  rise  and  fall  with  muscular  activity, 
keeping  pace  with  the  amount  of  muscular  work 
done.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  does  nothing 
of  the  kind!  Muscular  activity  affects  not  at 
all  the  nitrogen  waste  of  the  body,  but  increases 
enormously  the  carbon  output,  in  the  shape  of 
the  carbon  dioxide  of  expiration.  This  simple 
observation,  then,  upsets  completely  the  Liebig 
theory  with  its  corollaries,  showing,  as  it  does, 
that  the  energy  converted  %into  muscular  work, 
like  that  converted  into  heat,  comes  from  the 
oxidation,  not  of  living  tissue  itself,  but  of 
dissolved  pabulum,  mostly  non  -  nitrogenous, 
brought  by  the  blood  and  delivered  into  the 
juices  of  the  tissues  for  direct  fuel  use. 

The  exposure  of  the  fallacy  as  to  the  special 
need  of  the  manual  laborer  for  meat  is  thus 
made  particular,  because  of  the  deep  root  of  the 
fallacy  itself  in  popular  understanding.  There  is 
no  error  so  hard  to  eradicate  as  that  which  once 
had  authoritative  vogue  as  truth.  The  Liebig 
theory  was  formerly  believed  by  physiologists, 
but  now  is  simply  a  bit  of  ancient  history. 

There  is  in  this  connection,  however,  one  point 
that  must  not  be  overlooked.  Animal  food  seems 
to  stimulate  the  nutritive  processes  generally, 
it  may  be  simply  by  presenting  an  excess  of 
circulating  proteid,  or  possibly  also  through  some 
action  by  the  extractives  of  the  meat.  Accord- 
ingly in  the  severe  strain  of  overwork,  either 


Eating  63 

physical  or  mental,  a  liberal  meat  allowance  may 
prove  specifically  sustaining  and  vivifying.  Such 
influence,  however,  has  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  dynamic  requirements  of  work  as  work. 
This  point  is  further  proved  by  the  fact  that  this 
same  peculiar  sustaining  influence  of  animal  food 
is  experienced  just  as  refreshingly  by  the  hard- 
driven  brain-worker  as  by  the  exhausted  plier  of 
the  pick.  But  yet  the  amount  of  kinetic  energy 
required  for  conversion  into  intellection — the  do- 
ing of  mental  work — is  so  small  as  utterly  to 
elude  measurement  by  even  the  most  refined 
methods  of  laboratory  research ! 

Another  phase  of  this  same  error  of  under- 
standing as  to  the  effect  of  proteid  food  is  the 
notion  that  hearty  meat-eating  will  tend  to 
develop  muscle  and  increase  strength.  It  will 
do  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  protoplasm  mael- 
strom will  not  whirl  the  faster  by  turning  more 
water  into  the  stream,  and  while  growing  muscle, 
set  to  growing  by  exercise,  will  seize  upon  proteid 
bricks  for  the  building  of  its  added  thickness  of 
wall,  the  converse  idea  is  far  from  true  that  the 
mere  dumping  of  bricks  into  a  yard  will,  by 
itself,  start  building  operations.  He  who  eats 
heavily  of  proteid  will  gain  in  weight,  it  is  true, 
will  "lay  on  flesh",  as  the  saying  is,  but,  alas, 
the  "flesh"  is  not  flesh  at  all!  The  excess  of 
proteid  over  and  above  what  the  system  needs 
in  regular  routine  only  runs  to  waste  in  the 
usual  way.  Out  of  the  one  half  of  the  waste 


64  Eating 

will  come  urea  to  tax  liver  and  kidneys  for  its 
disposal,  and  out  of  the  other,  not  flesh,  but  fat 
to  delude  its  proud  possessor  by  added  avoirdu- 
pois! 

In  bountiful  America,  well  blessed  with  nod- 
ding cornfields,  waving  pastures,  and  open- 
hearted  citizens,  insufficiency  of  food  is  happily 
the  exception.  Nevertheless  its  effects  must  be 
studied,  since  underfeeding,  voluntary  or  invol- 
untary, constitutes  a  practical  error  of  alimenta- 
tion. 

If  the  supply  of  proteid  be  too  small,  nutrition 
suffers,  even  though  other  foodstuffs  be  taken  in 
abundance.  For  the  maelstrom  of  the  protoplasm 
molecule  revolves  unceasingly,  and  its  stream  can 
be  fed  by  proteid  food  only.  When,  then,  the 
nitrogen  income  falls  short  of  the  nitrogen  outgo, 
trouble  begins  as  with  a  bank  whose  receiving 
teller  takes  in  less  money  than  the  paying  teller 
passes  out.  Sooner  or  later  the  doors  must  close. 
Under  a  deficiency  of  proteid,  subjects  may  keep 
their  weight,  so  long  as  non-nitrogenous  food  be 
in  plenty,  but  they  will  weaken  progressively 
from  the  failure  properly  to  nourish  the  substance 
of  life.  A  certain  minimum  of  this  king  food- 
stuff, proteid,  is  thus  seen  to  be  nature's  ulti- 
matum for  nutrition.  To  this  inexorable  decree 
dietetic  fads  of  all  kinds  must  conform,  as  to  a 
first  and  fundamental  law  of  the  alimentary  code. 
Examples  of  proteid  starvation  are  afforded  by 


Eating  65 

cases  where  the  dietary  consists  exclusively  of 
such  food  as  potatoes  or  rice.*  These  foods  con- 
tain but  a  small  proportion  of  proteids,  so  that 
an  inordinate  quantity  must  be  consumed  in 
order  to  get  an  adequate  proteid  allowance. 

Deficiency  of  non-nitrogenous  food,  with  an  in- 
creased allowance  of  proteid  in  substitution,  harms 
not  by  inanition,  but  by  the  intrinsic  dele- 
teriousness  of  a  high  proteid  supply.  So  far  as 
merely  concerns  nutrition,  proteid  can  fulfill  all 
the  requirements  for  organic  food.  Carnivorous 
animals  and  exclusively  flesh-  or  fish-eating  tribes 
of  men  are  examples  of  subsistence  with  no  car- 
bohydrate at  all  and  a  minimum  of  fat,  only. 

Deficiency  of  non-nitrogenous  food  without 
compensating  excess  of  proteid  is  as  disastrous 
as  direct  deficiency  of  proteid.  The  furnace-fire 
of  life  is  as  inexorable  in  its  demands  for  food  as 
is  the  living  substance  of  the  engine,  and  if  it 
cannot  get  fuel  from  one  source,  will  seize  it 
mercilessly  from  another,  no  matter  what  the 
immolation.  As  a  storm-tossed  steamer  with 
empty  bunkers  will  burn  decks  and  bulwarks  to 
keep  the  engine  going,  so  the  living  organism, 
fuel-starved,  will,  after  first  exhausting  the  re- 
serve of  adipose  substance,  turn  upon  itself,  that 
is  upon  the  tissues,  beginning  with  the  muscles, 
and  ruthlessly  burn  them.  So,  after  a  pre- 

*  The  common  statement  that  the  Japanese  soldier  sub- 
sists wholly  on  rice  is  an  error.  Proteid  is  added,  generally 
in  the  form  of  dried  fish. 


66  Eating 

liminary  lat  emaciation,  comes  the  same  muscle- 
wasting,  with  weakness  and  ultimate  death,  that 
attends  primary  proteid  starving. 

Deliberate  underfeeding  is  comparatively  rare, 
because  at  once  so  purposeless  and  so  distressing. 
When  occurring,  it  is  either  because  of  dyspepsia, 
in  which  case  it  really  is  involuntary,  or  comes 
from  some  silly  notion  born  of  a  combination 
of  innate  mental  crookedness  and  that  "little 
knowledge"  that  "is  a  dangerous  thing". 

"No,  I  don't  take  much  food;  I  don't  need  it: 
this  splendid  air  is  sustenance  enough  by  itself." 

This  preposterous  remark,  glibly  controverting 
the  very  a  b  c  of  chemical  physics,  was  once  made 
to  the  writer  by  a  fanatical  young  girl,  whose 
bloodless  lips,  shrunken  figure,  and  fluttering 
heart  should  have  told  her  of  her  fatal  error  with- 
out need  to  consult  a  physician. 

Dyspeptics  often  make  the  mistake  of  skipping 
meals  because  not  hungry.  Hunger  is  simply  the 
cry  of  the  stomach  to  be  filled.  The  less  blatant 
tissues  do  not  cry  for  nourishment;  they  simply 
take  what  is  given  them,  and  if  the  amount  be 
insufficient,  they  complain  not,  but  calmly  turn 
about  and  consume  themselves.  Whoso,  then, 
imagines  that  his  substance  does  not  need  nourish- 
ment, because,  forsooth,  the  stomach  calls  not 
for  food,  will  have  his  error  brought  home  to 
him  later  in  a  very  realistic  way,  when  he  finds 
knees  strangely  quivering  and  shoulders  strangely 
shivering,  while  within  the  now  loosely  hanging 


Eating  67 

clothes  the  poor  half-starved  frame  shrinks  on 
all  sides  in  emaciation 

Regularity  in  eating  is  a  first  principle  in 
alimentation,  so  that  unless  the  stomach  be  so 
utterly  upset  that  even  the  simplest  of  viands 
will  not  digest,  the  dyspeptic  should  punctiliously 
take  his  place  at  table  and  essay  to  eat  a  little, 
at  least,  even  though  appetite  be  wanting.  At 
first  the  mere  thought  of  food  may  disgust,  but 
after  a  mouthful  or  two,  behold!  that  scalloped 
oyster  or  that  breast  of  chicken  does  not  taste 
so  bad  after  all,  and  so,  before  the  fact  is  real- 
ized, appetite  coming  with  eating,  quite  a  little 
meal  is  made  and  with  relish.  Without  suffi- 
cient food,  the  morbid  condition  tends  to  per- 
petuate itself  by  working  in  a  vicious  circle, — 
the  less  the  nourishment,  the  weaker  the  system ; 
and  the  weaker  the  system,  the  worse  the  dys- 
pepsia. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  I  am  a  hearty  eater,  but  what 
of  it?  My  digestion  is  good."  And  protuber- 
ant paunch,  pursy  chest,  purple  face,  and  knobby 
knuckles  depict,  "with  such  a  lustre  he  that  runs 
may  read",  an  internal  economy  where  ash- 
barrels  are  full  to  overflowing  and  drain-pipes 
clogged  and  foul. 

Overfeeding  is  the  predominant  dietetic  sin, 
and  is  so  common,  indeed,  that  it  is  hardly  an 
exaggeration  to  say  that  the  majority  of  those 
that  can  afford  it  eat  more  than  is  necessary, 


68  Eating 

and  therefore  more  than  is  wholesome.  And 
what  else  is  to  be  expected  in  a  civilization  where, 
from  the  days  of  Lucullus  down,  the  pampering 
of  sated  appetites  has  been  elevated  into  a  fine 
art  whose  expositors  command  a  higher  or  a 
lower  wage  according  to  their  certified  success  in 
temptation!  That  food  should  be  varied  and 
should  be  nicely  cooked  and  served  is,  of  course, 
right  and  proper,  but  quite  a  different  thing  is 
the  menu  whose  avowed  design  is  the  pursuit  of 
happiness  through  the  sense  of  taste — the  eating 
for  eating's  sake,  long  after  nature's  call  for 
nourishment  has  fully  been  met. 

General  overfeeding  predisposes  tc  a  long  train 
of  woes.  First  and  most  commomy  is  a  tend- 
ency to  grow  fat,  showing  itself  in  the  third  or 
fourth  decade,  and  increasing  with  the  advance 
of  years  until  old  age  is  reached,  when  the  tide 
turns  and  much  of  the  adventitious  fat  is  reab- 
sorbed. 

In  this  matter  of  fattening,  however,  there  is 
much  idiosyncrasy.  Some  subjects,  especially 
such  as  are  tall  and  long-bodied,  remain  thin  in 
spite  of  even  excessive  overeating,  while  others, 
even  though  quite  temperate  in  the  pleasures  of 
the  table,  may  grow  inordinately  fat.  In  the 
one  case,  the  subject  burns,  instantly  and  merci- 
lessly, every  stick  of  fuel  delivered  at  his  door, 
whether  or  not  he  needs  the  resulting  hot  fire 
roaring  within,  while  the  other,  miser-like,  burns 
barely  enough  to  keep  the  pipes  from  freezing, 


Eating  69 

and  hoards  the  rest  in  vast  piles  filling  the  house 
from  cellar  to  garret. 

A  certain  amount  of  adipose  tissue  is  normal 
and  useful,  both  as  a  reserve  of  fuel  and  for  the 
rounding  off  of  sharp  corners  in  skeletal  archi- 
tecture. But  anything  like  a  pronounced  adven- 
titious fattening  in  middle  life  is  abnormal, 
and  commonly  is  a  telltale  of  overeating.  The 
excess  of  food,  or  some  of  it,  instead  of  suffering 
oxidation,  is  converted  into  fat,  which  then  is 
stowed  away  in  the  corner-cupboards  of  the 
anatomy,  and  then  when  these  are  filled,  is 
dumped  openly  anywhere  and  everywhere  be- 
neath the  suffering  skin. 

Any  considerable  degree  of  fatness  is  intrinsic- 
ally deleterious.  The  fat  mechanically  clogs  the 
free  play  of  the  muscles  and  muscular  organs, 
such  as  the  heart  and  the  stomach,  and  also  bans 
physical  exercise  by  its  weight.  Finally,  and  all 
too  often,  it  creeps  in  and  among  the  cells  and 
fibres  of  the  tissues,  substituting  lifeless  oil- 
globules  for  living  protoplasm — produces,  in  short, 
fatty  degeneration. 

In  the  case  of  dumb  beasts,  animals  are  fat- 
tened for  the  slaughter-pen,  but  are  sedulously 
kept  lean  for  the  hunting-field  or  the  race-track. 
Yet  the  same  Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere  who 
would  scold  roundly  the  groom  that  might  let 
horse  or  hound  grow  fat  in  service  will,  in  middle 
life,  complacently  loll  in  her  carriage  in  volumi- 
nous embonpoint,  as  perfect  an  example,  herself, 


jo  Eating 

of  an  animal  heavily  out  of  condition  from  over- 
feeding as  well  could  be  imagined ! 

The  special  excess  of  proteids  consumed  in  good 
living,  by  reason  of  the  seductive  tastiness  of 
animal  foods,  brings  special  penalties  all  its  own. 
To  repeat  what  has  so  often  been  said  in  the  fore- 
going pages,  the  combustion  of  proteid  within 
the  organism  yields  a  solid  ash  which  must  be 
raked  down  by  the  liver  and  thrown  out  by  the 
kidneys.  Now  when  this  task  gets  to  be  over- 
laborious,  the  laborers  are  likely  to  go  on  strike. 
The  grate,  then,  is  not  properly  raked:  clinkers 
form,  and  slowly  the  smothered  fire  glows  dull 
and  dies. 

That  overeating  tends  to  shrink  the  span  of 
life  in  proportion  as  it  expands  the  liver  is 
demonstrable  both  directly  and  indirectly.  Let 
any  actuary  of  life-insurance  be  asked  his 
experience  with  heavy-weight  risks,  where  the 
waist  measures  more  than  the  chest,  and  the 
long-drawn  face  of  the  business-man  at  memory 
of  lost  dollars,  will  make  answer  without  need 
of  words.  Then  let  be  noted  the  physique  of 
the  blessed  ones  that  attain  to  green  old  age, 
and,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  spry  old  boys 
— no  disparagement  but  all  honor  in  the  phrase 
— will  be  found  to  be  modeled  after  the  type 
of  octogenarian  Bryant  or  nonagenarian  Bancroft 
— the  white-faced,  wiry,  and  spare,  as  contrasted 
with  the  red-faced,  the  pursy,  and  the  stout.  It 
is  true,  as  has  already  been  mentioned,  that  in  old 


Eating  71 

age  much  of  an  adventitious  obesity  is  absorbed 
and  disappears,  but  the  Bryant- Bancroft  type  is 
that  of  a  subject  who  never  has  been  fat  at 
all.  And  just  such  is  preeminently  the  type 
that  rides  easily  past  the  four-score  mark,  reins 
well  in  hand,  and  good  for  many  another  lap  in 
the  race  of  life. 

It  may  truly  be  said,  then,  in  alliteration, 
that  fine  fare  leads  to  feasting,  feasting  to  fat, 
fat  to  degeneration,  and  degeneration  to  death, 
all  "as  the  sparks  fly  upward " I 

From  this  presentment  of  the  dangers  that  frown 
by  the  Scylla  of  starving,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  Chary bdis  of  stuffing,  on  the  other,  it  is  plain 
to  see  that  the  warning  of  Phoebus  to  Phaethon, 
media  tutissimus  ibis,  applies  as  well  to  him 
who  would  navigate  the  straits  of  nutrition  as 
to  him  who  would  dare  the  dizzy  course  of  the 
zodiac.  So  comes,  then,  the  vital  inquiry,  just 
where  runs  the  safe  mid-channel  line? 

The  physiological  chemist  can  easily  draw  a 
line  on  the  Scylla  side  of  the  channel.  A  dietary 
whereby  the  system  gets  less  than  it  pays  out  is, 
obviously,  a  dangerous  veer  toward  starvation 
rock.  But  on  the  Charybdis  side,  just  as  the 
whirlpool  itself  has  no  well-defined  border,  the 
channel  boundary  is  not  so  easily  marked.  The 
case  is  exactly  analogous  to  the  stoking  of  a 
furnace.  The  proportion  of  ash  to  live  coals  is 
a  telltale  as  to  underfeeding  but  not  as  to  over- 


72  Eating 

feeding.  With  undersupply  of  fuel  the  ashes 
overbalance  the  live  coals  and  the  fire  is  thus 
foretold  to  be  going  out.  But  with  an  over- 
supply  the  fire  simply  burns  the  faster:  all 
the  fuel  continues  to  be  consumed :  the  more  coal 
simply  makes  the  more  ash,  so  that  equilibrium 
is  not  disturbed,  although  maintained  at  a 
higher  level.  To  argue,  therefore,  that  a  given 
dietary  is  none  too  large,  because  the  balance 
between  the  material  receipts  and  expenditures 
of  the  economy  is  not  upset,  would  be  like  saying 
that  a  given  furnace-fire  is  certainly  none  too 
hot,  since  the  ashes  raked  out  of  the  fire-box 
just  correspond  to  the  amount  of  coal  shoveled 
in.  The  same  would  be  equally  true  of  a  slower 
fire  consuming  much  less  fuel. 

The  philosophy  of  the  matter  is,  then,  to  find 
the  minimum  of  steam  that  will  run  the  engine, 
and  then  maintain  a  fire  somewhat  hotter  than 
the  exact  requirement,  in  order  to  run  no  risk 
of  failure ;  or,  to  return  to  the  metaphor  already 
employed,  the  would-be  careful  liver  must  simply 
note  how  close  to  Scylla  other  voyagers  have 
sailed  with  safety,  and  then  steer  his  own  bark 
accordingly. 

Now  there  are  plenty  of  examples,  both  of 
individuals  and  of  whole  communities,  where 
subjects  have  subsisted,  with  full  maintenance  of 
health  and  vigor — crude  test  of  nutrition  equi- 
librium— on  a  dietary  far  below  the  commonly 
accepted  standard  of  European  civilization,  espe- 


Eating  73 

cially  in  the  matter  of  the  proteid  allowance. 
Thus,  to  take  a  case  near  home,  the  venerable 
poet-editor,  Bryant,  whose  lithe  figure,  in  springy 
gait,  was,  even  at  age  eighty  and  over,  a  familiar 
sight  on  the  streets  of  New  York,  subsisted 
habitually  on  a  dietary  largely  vegetable,  whose 
frugality  would  be  dubbed  by  the  average  good 
trencherman  as  fit  only  for  an  ascetic.  But  a 
more  striking  example  still  is  afforded  by  a  re- 
markable centenarian  of  a  bygone  period,  whose 
story,  as  told  by  himself,  is  as  fascinating  as  it  is 
instructive. 

Born  in  the  fifteenth  century,  there  lived  for 
nearly  one  hundred  years,  in  Italy,  one  Louis 
Cornaro,  a  man  of  noble  birth.  Up  to  forty 
years  of  age,  this  now  historic  personage  was  a 
reckless  debauchee,  when,  frightened  by  desperate 
illness  brought  about  by  his  habits,  he  resolved 
to  reform,  and  not  only  that,  but  to  live  the  ideal 
life,  and  prove  his  claim  that  the  proper  span 
of  life  for  man  is  one  hundred  years.  Inflexibly 
he  held  to  his  purpose,  and  triumphantly  he 
made  good  his  claim:  for  not  until  the  tally  had 
nearly  scored  the  record  of  a  full  century  did 
this  serene  and  happy  life  find  its  natural  end, 
passing  as  passes  a  flower  when  bloom-time  is 
done.  Cornaro  followed  faithfully  all  the  laws  of 
health,  but  especially  was  he  abstemious  in  eat- 
ing, his  dietary  being  of  the  simplest  and  his 
ration  most  frugal.  Once  he  yielded  to  the  im- 
portunities of  physicians,  family,  and  friends,  and 


74  Eating 

increased  his  daily  quantity  of  food  from  twelve 
to  fourteen  ounces.  A  "severe  illness"  followed, 
and  quickly  the  wise  old  man  went  back  to  his 
own  prescribed  allowance. 

This  admirable  philosopher  has  preached  his 
doctrine  in  four  essays  on  "The  Temperate  Life", 
the  first  written  at  age  eighty-three,  the  second 
at  eighty-six,  the  third  at  ninety-one,  and  the 
fourth  at  ninety-five.  An  English  translation  is 
in  print  *  and  is  most  interesting  reading.  Be- 
sides the  worth  of  the  doctrine  expounded,  the 
book  reflects  the  sweet  personality  of  the  writer, 
the  habits  of  the  times,  and  the  quaint  notions  of 
physiology  then  prevailing. 

The  great  point  set  forth  in  Cornaro's  book, 
and  proved  by  the  venerable  author  in  his  own 
person,  is  that  not  only  is  a  frugal  fare  all  that  is 
needed  for  the  support  of  life,  but  also  that 
frugality  actually  gives  increase  of  vigor,  physical 
and  mental,  freedom  from  illness,  and  added 
length  of  years.  And  with  these  benefits  goes, 
as  always,  that  joy  of  mere  being  that  lies  only 
in  the  gift  of  the  goddess  Hygieia.  Cornaro,  at 
age  eighty-three,  writes  of  the  delight  he  has 
in  joining  with  his  grandchildren  in  song:  for 
his  own  voice  "is  now  better,  clearer,  and  more 
sonorous  than  it  ever  was  before". 

*  The  Art  of  Living  Long:  A  New  and  Improved  English 
Version  of  the  Treatise  of  the  Celebrated  Venetian  Centena- 
rian Louis  Cornaro  (etc.).  Milwaukee,  William  F.  Butler, 
1903.  Moody  Publishing  Co.,  Publishers,  35  Nassau  St., 
New  York  City. 


Eating  75 

A  case  of  similar  frugality  with  similar  result 
on  health,  though  the  effect  on  longevity  remains 
to  be  seen,  is  one  that  most  fortunately  has 
been  made  the  subject  of  scientific  investigation 
by  a  skilled  observer,  Professor  Chittenden, 
Director  of  the  Sheffield  Scientific  School  of 
Yale  University  and  Professor  of  Physiological 
Chemistry.*  The  case  is  of  a  subject  (Mr. 
Horace  Fletcher)  who  has  for  years,  and  entirely 
from  choice,  lived  on  two  most  frugal  meals  a 
day,  consisting  generally  of  some  cereal  and 
maple  sugar.  For  seven  days  and  while  subsist- 
ing thus,  without  restriction,  the  subject  was 
placed  under  laboratory  observation,  with  the 
following  result :  First,  appetite  was  fully  satis- 
fied; secondly,  the  income  and  the  outgo  of  the 
body  balanced  properly;  and  thirdly — crucial 
test  of  adequate  nourishment — the  subject  was 
able  to  do  severe  physical  work  with  even  excep- 
tional ease.  Ordinarily  his  exercise  was  simply 
the  usual  walking  abroad,  but  during  the  seven 
days  of  the  observation  he  was  put  through  the 
exact  daily  routine  of  a  college  crew  then  under 
training  at  the  same  place.  To  the  surprise  of 
the  director  of  the  gymnasium,  the  subject  did 
the  unaccustomed  exercises  with  ease  and  with- 
out the  muscular  soreness  commonly  developed 
under  such  circumstances.  Even  the  endurance 
test  of  a  long  run  was  taken  without  distress. 

*  Physiological  Economy  in  Nutrition.     Russell  H.  Chit- 
tenden, The  Popular  Science  Monthly,  June,  1903. 


76  Eating 

The  heart  beat  fast,  indeed,  but  returned  to 
normal  rate  quicker  than  with  other  subjects  of 
the  same  age  and  weight. 

Yet  this  subject,  weighing  165  pounds,  con- 
sumed during  the  week  of  the  observation  less 
than  one-third  of  the  commonly  accepted  stand- 
ard requirement  of  nitrogenous  aliment  for 
hard  workers,  and  only  a  little  more  than  one- 
half  of  the  assumed  standard  for  non-nitrogen- 
ous requirement.  Incidentally,  the  cost  of  the 
dietary  in  this  case  averaged  eleven  cents  a  day! 

But  what  should  set  the  civilized  world  to  very 
serious  thinking  indeed,  on  this  subject  of  fru- 
gality, is  the  epoch-making  record  of  later  and 
elaborate  experiments  by  this  same  observer,*  set 
on  foot  by  the  remarkable  showing  of  the  case 
just  described.  In  these  experiments  three  sets 
of  subjects  were  taken,  one  composed  of  five 
university  professors  and  instructors,  including 
the  observer  himself,  one  of  a  detail  of  thirteen 
enlisted  men  of  the  army,  and  one  of  eight  col- 
lege athletes  in  training.  All  three  of  these 
groups  of  men  were  subjected  to  critical  labora- 
tory observation  for  continuous  periods  of  many 
months,  during  which  the  proteid  part  of  the 
ration  was  reduced  to  an  amount  ranging  from 
one-half  to  one-third  only  of  what  had  been 
customary.  In  the  case  of  the  first  and  third 
groups  each  subject  made  the  reduction  to  suit 

*  Physiological  Economy  in  Nutrition,  Russell  H.  Chit- 
tenden.  New  York,  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company,  1904. 


Eating  77 

himself,  but  in  the  case  of  the  soldiers  the  dietary 
was  prescribed.  No  curtailment  was  ordered  for 
non-nitrogenous  food,  although  many  of  the 
subjects,  of  their  own  accord,  reduced  this  ele- 
ment of  the  ration  also.  The  subjects  pursued 
their  ordinary  avocations  throughout  the  period 
of  observation. 

The  general  result  of  the  experimenting  was 
as  follows:  Some  of  the  subjects,  at  the  outset, 
especially  such  as  were  fat,  lost  some  weight,  but 
then,  having  got  down  to  their  bearings,  so  to 
speak,  they  held  their  new  weight  steadily  as 
the  others  held  their  old.  All  maintained  "ni- 
trogen equilibrium",  the  output  of  nitrogenous 
waste  dropping  with  the  diminished  supply  of 
nitrogenous  food.  All  maintained  nervous  and 
muscular  vigor,  and  the  soldiers  and  athletes 
positively  gained  in  muscular  strength,  as  deter- 
mined by  critical  tests.  All  kept  in  good  health, 
certain  minor  ailments,  indeed,  from  which  some 
had  been  suffering  at  the  beginning,  disappearing 
completely.  Appetite  was  fully  satisfied. 

In  the  groups  where  dietetic  freedom  was 
given,  some  of  the  subjects,  of  their  own  accord, 
came  to  dispense  with  breakfast,  taking  in  the 
morning  only  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  some  ceased  to 
take  meat.  One,  who  had  been  a  particularly 
hearty  meat-eater,  became  a  vegetarian.  The 
director  of  the  experiments,  one  of  those  who 
had  abandoned  breakfast,  after  the  close  of  his 
own  personal  experimentation,  continued  the  new 


78  Eating 

dietary  from  choice  as  his  regular  standard,  an- 
nouncing "no  desire  to  return  to  the  more  liberal 
dietetic  habits  of  former  years".  Nine  of  the 
soldiers  went  in  a  body  to  a  new  station,  and 
from  thence,  three  months  later,  one  of  them 
wrote  to  the  director,  saying:  "The  men  are  all 
in  first-class  condition  as  regards  their  physical 
condition,  and  are  all  very  thankful  to  you.  We 
eat  very  little  meat  now  as  a  rule,  and  would 
willingly  go  on  another  test."  When  beginning 
the  experimentation  these  men  were  subsisting 
on  an  army  ration  allowing  one  and  a  quarter 
pounds  of  meat  per  day,  apiece ! 

Here,  then,  in  very  fact,  is  proof  of  the  pud- 
ding by  the  eating.  Here  is  demonstration  by 
an  expert  through  many  examples  taken  from 
different  types  of  men  and  all  mutually  corrobo- 
rative, that  the  sporadic  cases  of  a  Cornaro, 
a  Bryant,  or  a  Fletcher  are  not  so  crazy  as  they 
seem;  that  man  really  needs  only  from  one- 
half  to  one-third  of  the  amount  of  proteid  food 
commonly  supposed  to  be  necessary;  that,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  is  stronger,  more  vigorous,  and 
far  more  active  on  a  reduced  proteid  fare,  and, 
especially,  that  there  is  no  call  whatever  for  a 
heavy  proteid  allowance  because  of  the  doing 
of  hard  muscular  work. 

There  are  some  persons  whose  minds  are  so 
constituted  that,  to  them,  a  scientific  demon- 
stration is  "a  scientific  demonstration"  and 
nothing  more, — is,  that  is  to  say,  a  mere  mystery 


Eating  79 

of  micrometers  and  fine  scales,  of  figures  and  of 
tables,  all  of  possible  interest  to  certain  queer  old 
gentlemen  in  spectacles  and  ill-fitting  clothes,  but 
of  no  practical  bearing  on  the  affairs  of  life.  If 
any  victim  of  such  delusion  chance  to  peruse 
these  pages,  let  him  accept  a  challenge !  Let  him, 
for  six  months  or  even  for  three  only,  experiment 
on  his  own  person  with  frugality  and  bide  the 
result.  The  experience  will  do  him  no  harm: 
of  that  he  may  rest  assured.  If  he  be  the  aver- 
age trencherman  only,  let  him  simply  cut  in  two, 
though  not  too  suddenly,  his  allowance  of  animal 
food.  If  decidedly  a  bon  vivant,  let  him  reduce  in 
all  lines  his  indulgence  in  things  good  to  eat. 
Butcher's  meat  once  a  day  only,  at  the  principal 
meal,  is  often  enough,  and  even  then  need  not 
exceed  in  quantity  the  equivalent  of  one  small 
slice  of  beef.  What  animal  food  is  taken  at  the 
other  meals  should  be  of  the  quality  and  quan- 
tity of  relish  only.  The  minu  for  dinner  should 
not  be  more  elaborate  than  is  represented  by 
a  plate  of  soup,  a  single  course  of  meat  with 
potato  and  one  green  vegetable,  a  salad  or  other 
light  vegetable  entrte,  and  a  simple  dessert,  such 
as  a  fruit  or  a  custard.  The  other  two  meals 
should  be  light  snacks  only.  Let  the  experi- 
menter follow  this  regimen  and  at  the  same 
time  turn  his  back  to  the  wine-cellar  and  his 
face  to  the  front  door,  taking  plenty  of  out- 
door exercise,  and  surprisingly  soon,  crede  ex- 
ferto,  will  he  find  that  now  he  is  not  sleepy 


8o  Eating 

after  meals,  nor  short-breathed  on  going  up- 
stairs; that  he  is  ready  at  all  times  for  work, 
physical  or  mental,  and,  to  his  unspeakable  com- 
fort, that  he  must  betake  him  to  his  tailor  to 
have  his  trousers  taken  in  at  the  waist  instead 
of  let  out.  Indeed,  if  the  experiment  be  carried 
out  faithfully,  such  probably  will  be  the  feeling 
of  a  return  to  youth,  that  the  experimental 
ration  quietly  will  become  standard,  and  the 
simple,  single  plateful  of  meat  and  vegetables 
secretly  be  extolled  as  a  something  better  than 
the  elixir  of  life!  And  in  this  experiment,  what 
will  surprise  as  much  as  anything  will  be  the 
quality  of  appetite  and  digestion  developed. 
The  new  dinner  will  give  keener  relish  than  did 
formerly  a  five-  or  seven-course  banquet  with  its 
introductory  cocktail  and  caviar,  its  intermedi- 
ary sorbet  and  cigarette,  and  its  terminal  coffee 
and  liquor — whiplash  accessories  all,  to  flog  the 
staggering  stomach  to  a  successful  carrying  off 
of  its  cruel  load!  Let  the  challenge  be  accepted, 
arid  let  the  issue  prove  that  this  picture  is  no 
fancy  sketch ! 

A  considerable  reduction  of  an  excessive  ration 
necessarily  means,  at  first,  that  the  plate  must 
be  pushed  away  while  there  is  still  some  unsatis- 
fied appetite,  and  many  would-be  reformers  get 
disheartened  and  rebellious  at  the  self-denial 
required.  But  perseverance  will  reap  its  reward. 
Appetite  is  only  stomach-deep.  It  comes  from 
emptiness,  and  it  goes  only  with  fullness.  A 


Eating  81 

heavy  eater  is  sated  by  nothing  short  of  a  heavy 
meal,  for  the  reason  that  his  stomach  has  become 
overdistended  from  habit,  and  so  does  not  feel 
comfortably  filled  until  the  customary  load  is 
received.  But  when,  upon  a  diminished  fare,  the 
stomach  gets  down  to  its  natural  bearings,  it 
accepts  the  smaller  allowance  as  satisfying,  and, 
indeed,  comes  to  be  distressed  by  a  meal  of  the 
old  dimension. 

The  keynote  of  frugality  is  the  note  struck  by 
the  Chittenden  experimentation,  namely,  reduc- 
tion of  the  proteid  allowance.  The  old-time 
standard  dietaries,  such  as  that  of  the  authority 
Voit,  give  the  following  figures  for  the  daily 
ration,  in  foodstuffs,  of  the  average  man  doing 
the  average  amount  of  muscular  work : 

Proteid 118  grammes*  (1821  grains,  about    4$  oz.) 

Fat 56  (864        "  "       2     "  ) 

Carbohydrate.  .  .  .500  (7716  J7i  "  ) 

In  the  light  of  the  Chittenden  experiments,  the 
figures  for  the  proteid  allowance  might  be  re- 
duced to  fifty  grammes,  or  772  grains,  equal  to 
about  one  and  three-quarters  .ounces,  a  quantity 
represented  by  the  proteid  content  of  nine  and 
a  half  ounces  of  lean  meat,  or  of  seven  eggs,  or 
of  twenty-seven  ounces  of  white  bread.  Is' me 
and  a  half  ounces  of  meat  is  about  the  weight  of 
a  slice  measuring  seven  by  three  inches  and  cut 

*A  gramme  is  15.432  grains,  and  437.5  grains  make  an 
ounce,  avoirdupois, 


82  Eating 

a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick.  Twenty-seven  ounces 
of  bread  represent  somewhat  less  than  two  loaves, 
the  standard  loaf  weighing  a  pound  (sixteen 
ounces). 

Reduction  of  proteids  is,  of  course,  effected 
most  easily  by  cutting  down  the  allowance  of 
animal  food,  since  such  food  is  pretty  much  all 
proteid.  Even  if  the  rest  of  the  dietary  were  to 
be  practically  non-nitrogenous  only,  made  up, 
for  instance,  of  arrowroot,  sugar,  and  butter,  a 
sufficiency  of  proteid  for  the  day  would  be 
yielded  by  a  meat  allowance  of  a  little  over  half 
a  pound  only.  And  in  the  case  of  the  ordinary 
mixed  dietary,  it  must  be  remembered  that  pro- 
teids peep  out  here,  there,  and  everywhere  in 
other  foods  as  well  as  meats.  Thus  ordinary 
cheese  is  one-third  part  proteid;  egg,  one- 
seventh;  beans,  from  one-eighth  to  one-quarter; 
and  bread,  from  one-twentieth  to  one-tenth,  etc. 
It  is  easy  to  see,  therefore,  how  little  meat  is 
needed,  with  the  ordinary  dietary,  to  yield  the 
allowance  of  fifty  grammes  of  proteid,  especially 
if  the  meat  allowance  be  distributed  among  the 
three  daily  meals. 

It  is  possible  to  get  enough  proteid  out  of  an 
exclusively  vegetable  fare,  as  witness  the  case  of 
herbivorous  animals.  But  to  do  so  requires  the 
consumption  of  an  inordinate  bulk  of  substance, 
since  vegetable  foods  are  both  deficient  in  pro- 
teids and  prolific  of  indigestible  and  innutritious 
fibre.  So  it  comes  to  pass  that  the  herbivore  is 


Eating  83 

forever  browsing,  while  the  carnivore  makes  a 
meal — when  he  can  get  it ! 

True  vegetarianism  is  the  exception;  for  most 
so-called  vegetarians  merely  exclude  such  animal 
food  as  is  obtained  by  slaughtering.  Such  as  is 
got  by  diversion  they  accept  freely,  and  so  gain 
egg,  milk  and  cheese,  foods  highly  pfoteid.  With 
such  animal  addition  to  a  vegetable  fare,  the 
due  proportion  of  proteid  is  easily  secured. 

With  wise  reduction  of  the  proteid  allowance 
to  proper  standard,  the  rest  of  the  dietary  can 
pretty  safely  be  left  to  take  care  of  itself.  A 
"sweet  tooth",  to  be  sure,  must  hold  himself,  or 
herself,  in  check  as  regards  the  pet  passion,  but, 
for  the  rest,  instinct  and  appetite  will  guide 
surely  enough.  There  is  no  harm  whatever  in 
taking  butter  or  cream  as  may  be  craved;  nor 
is  there  any  special  risk  of  growing  fat  in  con- 
sequence, and  as  for  farinaceous  food,  no  one 
is  likely  to  gorge  upon  bread  or  johnny-cake  or 
even  upon  the  most  vociferously  advertised  break- 
fast cereal  thrust  upon  the  suffering  market ! 

No  hard  and  fast  rule  of  diet  can  be  made  to 
fit  all  cases,  a  fact  of  common  observation  and 
of  common  sense  that  Cornaro  himself  was 
shrewd  enough  to  recognize.  Women  require 
less  food  than  men,  and,  weight  for  weight,  young 
ages  call  for  more  than  old;  active  outdoor 
exercise  for  more  than  an  indoor  occupation,  and 
cold  weather  for  more  than  warm.  Then  alwavs 

if 

individual  idiosyncrasy  must  be  allowed  its  way: 


84  Eating 

for  what  is  one  man's  meat  is  another  man's 
poison,  in  quantity  as  well  as  in  kind.  There 
are  some  persons,  like  the  venerable  Cornaro,  who 
keep  well  and  keep  their  weight  on  surprisingly 
little  food,  and  are  simply  distressed  in  digestion 
by  any  attempt  to  increase  the  ration.  Others, 
notably  the  thin,  intensely  nervous  and  in- 
tensely energetic,  must  have  full  fare,  and  even 
a  goodly  proportion  of  animal  food,  or  they  go 
to  pieces  with  weakness.  There  is  nothing  sur- 
prising in  this  difference.  Just  as  some  move 
quicker  and  think  quicker  than  others,  so  also,  pre- 
sumably, do  they  whirl  quicker  as  to  the  maelstrom 
of  the  protoplasm  molecule.  In  an  astronomical 
observatory,  account  must  carefully  be  taken  of 
the  personal  equation  of  each  observer,  an  "equa- 
tion" carefully  determined  when  the  observer 
first  enters  service.  This  equation  is  the  par- 
ticular fraction  of  a  second  that  elapses  between 
the  seeing  and  the  recording  of  the  passage  of  a 
star  athwart  the  spider-line  of  the  transit-instru- 
ment —  a  brief  interval  of  time,  to  be  sure,  but 
one  that  must  be  allowed  for  in  astronomical 
work,  and  one  that  is  found  to  differ  with  the 
individual.  So,  since  it  is  thus  shown  to  be  a 
fact  that  nerves  vary  in  rate  of  conduction,  the 
process  of  nourishment  that  underlies  conduc- 
tivity may  surely  be  believed  to  vary  also.  The 
test  of  the  proper  food-allowance  for  each  person 
must  lie  with  himself.  Twenty  minutes,  at  the 
furthest,  after  a  meal,  one  should  be  ready  for 


Eating  85 

work,  physical  or  mental,  according  to  the  hour, 
and  there  should  be  no  feeling  in  the  region  of 
the  stomach,  as  a  consequence  of  eating,  other 
than  the  simple  cessation  of  active  hunger. 

It  may  provoke  a  smile  to  be  told  that  the 
amount  of  food  required  in  any  case  will  depend, 
among  other  things,  upon  the  thoroughness  of 
the  chewing.  But  so  it  is,  for  the  reason  that 
well-masticated  food  means  well-digested  food, 
and  well-digested  food  is  the  more  completely 
absorbed.  Accordingly  a  given  amount  of  food 
thoroughly  masticated  delivers  as  much  aliment 
into  the  blood  as  does  a  much  larger  quantity 
hastily  bolted.  Also  it  satisfies  appetite  quite  as 
well. 

With  thorough  mastication  there  also  is  less 
desire  to  drink  while  actually  eating,  a  point  of 
distinct  advantage.  By  such  avoidance  there  is 
no  interference  with  the  very  busy  business  of 
the  stomach  while  receiving  food.  Proper  masti- 
cation itself  supplies  all  the  fluid  necessary  to  be 
swallowed  with  the  food,  and  any  addition  there- 
to is  simply  in  the  way.  The.  farm-hand  in  the 
hayloft,  sweating  to  keep  pace  with  the  fast- 
delivered  hay  pitched  up  from  the  wagon  below, 
will  gladly  put  his  head  under  the  pump  when 
his  suffocating  job  is  done,  but  would  revolt  at 
having  the  hose  turned  upon  him  while  actually 
plying  the  pitchfork.  Food  never  should  be 
washed  down  the  throat. 


86  Eating 

Still  another  effect  of  thorough  mastication  is 
thorough  digestion,  a  result  that  well  repays  the 
trouble  of  the  chewing.  The  service  that  jaw 
renders  to  stomach  is  really  quite  remarkable, 
and  is  not  appreciated  as  it  should  be.  Many  a 
case  of  dyspepsia  for  which  pills  and  powders  are 
taken  in  vain,  is  easily  curable  by  the  physician 
shrewd  enough  to  get  himself  asked  to  dinner 
at  his  patient's  house.  Watching  quietly  the 
patient  as  he  eats,  the  medical  guest  may  see  at 
a  glance  what  is  the  matter. 

A  mouthful  of  food  never  should  be  swallowed. 
This  sounds  like  nonsense,  yet  means  exactly 
what  it  says,  and  means  it  in  serious  earnest. 
The  proper  way  to  dispose  of  a  mouthful  is  to 
chew  and  chew  upon  the  mass  until,  lo !  there  is 
no  mass  there!  Little  by  little  as  portions  have 
become  thoroughly  masticated  and  insalivated 
they  have  crept  off  and  slipped  down  involun- 
tarily. In  such  case  there  is  no  conscious  swal- 
lowing analogous  to  the  gulping  of  a  draught  of 
water.  Over  the  arched  portal  of  the  palate 
nature  writes  for  them  to  read  who  know  her 
script,  "  Naught  passeth  here  but  pulp!" 

A  good  workman  insists  on  good  tools,  so  a 
jaw  that  would  do  its  duty  demands  good  teeth. 
For  deformities  of  the  teeth  the  owner  is  not 
responsible,  but  for  decay  he  distinctly  is,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten.  Caries  of  the  teeth,  which 
is  not  caries  at  all,  but  simply  a  decalcification 


Eating  87 

through  the  action  of  an  acid,  comes  about  as  a 
natural  consequence  of  the  lodgment  of  bits  of 
food  between  or  upon  the  teeth.  The  starch  in 
such  food-particles  is  changed  to  sugar  by  action 
of  the  saliva,  and  then,  by  further  action  of 
certain  busy-bodies  of  micro-organisms  that  the 
mouth  has  ever  with  it,  the  sugar  is  made  to 
undergo  the  lactic-acid  fermentation.  The  lactic 
acid  so  developed,  strong  sour  acid  that  it  is, 
then  turns  about  and  tears  at  its  host — eats  the 
lime  from  out  the  enamel,  and,  later,  from  the 
main  substance  of  the  tooth,  thus  producing  the 
well-known  cavity  of  decay. 

Such  being  the  action,  the  defeat  thereof  lies 
simply  in  marching  off  from  the  stage  the  star 
actor  the  moment  his  proper  part  is  played. 
Immediately  after  every  meal,  in  home  routine, 
each  participant  should  retire  for  five  minutes 
and  cleanse  the  teeth  from  adhering  scraps  of 
food,  both  by  brushing  and  by  passing  between 
contiguous  teeth  a  thread  of  floss  silk,  waxed. 
This  item  of  toilet  costs  time,  trouble,  and  vexa- 
tion: items  of  dentistry  cost  cash,  pain,  and 
vexation.  The  items  are  contrary  and  opposite: 
which  is  the  least  vexatious  ? 

Many  persons  brush  their  teeth  only  on  rising 
in  the  morning,  but  in  such  case  food  lodged 
from  the  breakfast  of  one  day  is  not  dislodged 
until  just  before  breakfast  on  the  morrow,  nearly 
twenty-four  hours  later.  So,  then,  every  day 
and  all  the  day,  in  such  case,  upon  wicket  and 


88  Eating 

postern  of  those  white  citadel  walls  a  subtle  foe 
is  ever  at  work  with  jemmy  and  drill,  seeking,  and 
all  too  successfully,  often,  to  force  a  way  into  the 
stronghold  within.  If  the  teeth  be  brushed  once 
a  day  only,  it  should  be  in  the  evening  rather 
than  in  the  morning.  And  whoso  elects,  by  a 
single  daily  cleansing  only,  to  risk  frequent  caries, 
should  continue  into  and  through  adult  life  the 
mother-enforced  habit  of  childhood  of  periodical 
"open,  please"  at  the  dentist's  command.  One 
may  discover  for  oneself  beginning  holes  in 
shoe-soles,  but  not  so  easily  those  in  the  back 
crevices  of  teeth. 

Connected  with  the  subject  of  amount  of  food 
is  that  of  number  of  meals  per  day  and  times  for 
eating. 

This  matter  is  quickly  disposed  of,  for  varying 
conditions  and  individual  preferences  all  have 
their  say,  and  combine  in  making  wide  differ- 
ences in  practice.  At  the  same  time,  the  followers 
of  different  systems  are  equally  healthy  and 
well-nourished.  Hygiene,  therefore,  need  not 
here  step  in  to  do  violence  either  to  convenience, 
choice,  or  necessity. 

In  the  choice  of  foods,  it  is  wise,  even  when  the 
purse  is  long,  to  educate  the  stomach  to  simple 
ways.  It  is,  of  course,  possible  so  to  coddle  one- 
self as  to  be  able  to  cope  only  with  the  daintiest 
and,  incidentally,  most  expensive  of  dishes.  But, 


Eating  89 

in  unexpected  circumstances,  fastidiousness,  with 
its  embarrassing  "don't  like"  this,  "can't  eat" 
that,  and  "never  touch"  the  other,  makes  great 
trouble  for  housekeeper  and  guest,  both.  Much 
more  comfortable  is  he  who,  on  occasion,  can 
stomach  any  wholesome  fare,  however  simple, 
from  a  rasher  of  bacon  or  a  smoked  herring  for 
breakfast,  to  an  honest  mess  of  corned  beef  and 
cabbage  for  dinner.  With  the  wealthy,  the 
"proud  stomach"  is  ordinarily  wholly  a  matter 
of  habit,  generally  due  to  a  mistaken  early  in- 
dulgence in  whims  of  taste.  Children  should  be 
brought  up  on  a  simple  fare,  but  yet  be  trained 
to  eat  anything  that  is  wholesome.  Then  the 
future  man  enters  the  battle  of  life  with  a  stomach 
ready  for  any  emergency. 

Genuine  idiosyncrasies,  however,  must  always 
be  heeded.  Perhaps  the  most  common  example 
of  the  kind  is  distaste  for  mutton.  To  many, 
indeed,  mutton,  however  disguised,  is  no  less 
than  a  gastric  poison.  With  others,  shellfish  and 
also  strawberries  produce  nettlerash,  and  with 
others  still,  sugar  and  even  farinaceous  messes 
develop  acidity.  To  some,  again,  butter  and 
animal  fats  generally  are  disgusting.  In  any 
case  of  pronounced  idiosyncrasy  avoidance  of 
the  offending  article  must  be  the  rule,  or  nature 
will  exact  a  penalty. 

In  the  making  up  of  dietaries,  the  first  point 
that  presents  is  the  fact  that  the  dietary  cannot 


90  Eating 

be  constructed  on  chemical  considerations  alone. 
A  diet  of  isolated  proximate  principles,  taken  in 
proper  quantity  and  proportion  as  set  forth  in 
the  foregoing  pages,  would  theoretically  be  suffi- 
cient for  nourishment,  but  nevertheless  would  not 
nourish.  For  a  short  time,  an  enthusiast  might 
subsist  on  white  of  egg,  butter,  arrowroot,  salt, 
phosphates,  and  water,  but  soon  palate  and 
digestive  tract,  both,  would  rebel,  forcing  the 
subject  to  come  to  his  senses  and  take  his  food 
in  natural  shape.  The  digestive  organs  are 
equipped  to  handle  food  in  crude  condition,  and 
not  as  sorted,  sifted,  and  condensed  in  the  labora- 
tory of  the  manufacturing  chemist.  Even  the 
indigestible  portions  of  natural  food  have  their 
function  in  giving  bulk  to  the  food-mass,  and  in 
provoking  proper  mastication  and  resulting  in- 
salivation.  Also  tastiness  and  variety  are  essen- 
tial to  prevent  palling  and  even  loathing. 

Condensed  and  predigested  food  is  highly 
valuable  as  a  temporary  makeshift  when,  foi 
some  reason,  natural  food  cannot  be  taken;  but, 
in  condition  of  ordinary  health,  much  the  best 
are  the  foods  that  fathers  provided  and  mothera 
cooked  before  the  day  when  the  manufacturing 
chemist  first  appeared  upon  the  land. 

In  this  same  matter  of  condensed  food,  there 
is  much  misunderstanding  and  misrepresentation. 
It  is  impossible  to  "condense"  food  further  than 
to  remove  indigestible  matter  and  abstract  water. 
That  done,  the  foodstuff  is  already  at  its  lowest 


Eating  9 1 

terms,  to  borrow  a  phrase  from  arithmetic,  and 
cannot  possibly  be  got  to  weigh  less.  Dried 
albumin,  pure  oil,  pure  sugar,  or  pure  starch  can- 
not be  condensed  further.  The  foodstuffs  can  be 
made  up  into  various  mixtures,  and  be  put  up 
in  various  forms,  but  further  condensation,  in  the 
meaning  of  reduction  of  weight,  is  physically 
impossible.  The  idea,  therefore,  of  representing 
in  a  pill  or  a  tablet  the  nutriment  of  a  square 
meal  is  nonsense.  There  can  be  no  more  nutri- 
ment in  a  tablet  than  is  expressed  by  the  weight 
of  the  tablet  itself. 

There  is  sound  philosophy  in  the  custom  of 
civilization  to  make  of  a  meal  a  ceremony.  For 
if  the  ceremonial  aspect  be  observed  properly — 
if  it  be  forbidden  to  make  the  home  meal  the 
occasion  for  the  home-grumbling — then  amid  talk 
and  laughter  will  eating  be  slow,  as  it  should  be, 
and  mastication  thorough.  So  when  at  the 
family  dinner-table  appear  only  pleasant  faces; 
when  conversation  is  bright  and  merry,  and  when 
from  one  to  other  of  the  diners  is  a  bearing  as 
courtly  as  if  each  were  "company",  then  does 
indeed  "good  digestion  wait  on  appetite,  and 
health  on  both." 

In  conclusion  of  the  chapter,  following  are  the 
main  points  of  hygiene  concerned  with  the  differ- 
ent common  articles  of  food  : 

Animal  foods   generally  are   characterized  by  a 


92  Eating 

high  proteid  content,  the  solid  portions  of  lean 
meat  and  of  glandular  substance,  such  as  liver 
or  kidney,  being,  indeed,  pretty  much  all  pro- 
teid; by  complete  absence  of  carbohydrates, 
except  in  the  case  of  liver,  and  by  the  presence 
of  more  or  less  fat,  albuminoids,  and  animal 
"extractives."  As  a  class,  animal  foods  are 
comparatively  easy  of  digestion,  and  are  dis- 
tinctly most  digestible  when  raw!  Every  minute 
of  cooking,  while  it  develops  flavor,  does  so  at 
the  expense  of  digestibility. 

Butcher's  meats  are  fat  and  lean.  Lean  meat 
is  three-quarters  water  and  one-quarter  only  of 
solid  matter.  The  solid  matter  is  principally 
proteid  with  salts  and  extractives.  These  ex- 
tractives are  substances  of  obscure  composition 
that  can  be  dissolved  out  from  meat  by  the  action 
of  boiling  water.  They  are  what  give  to  meats 
their  respective  characteristic  flavor.  Meat-ex- 
tractives contain  no  nutriment,  in  the  common 
meaning  of  the  word,  but  yet  have  dietetic  value, 
being  strangely  stimulant  to  the  nutritive  proc- 
esses. A  starving  animal  fed  with  meat-extract- 
ives dies  of  inanition — that  is,  of  consumption  of 
its  own  living  tissues' — sooner  than  does  a  com- 
panion in  misery  fed  on  air  alone!  The  well- 
known  preparation,  "Liebig's  Extract",  consists 
of  meat-extractives  and  salts,  and  in  its  action 
illustrates  well  the  peculiar  virtues  of  such 
extractives.  The  "extract"  contains  no  nutri- 
ment, and  is  stimulant  only.  It  quickens  appe- 


Eating  93 

tite,  promotes  the  digestion  and  assimilation  of 
food,  and,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  brings 
about  a  comforting  sense  of  well-being  and  good 
nourishment. 

Meat  is  tenderest  immediately  after  killing. 
But  since  man  cannot  eat  tiger  fashion,  he  must 
hang  his  meat  until  the  stiffening  of  the  muscles 
that  takes  place  after  slaughtering  has  passed 
away. 

Although  meat  is  most  digestible  when  raw,  it 
always  should  be  cooked  for  eating,  both  for 
taste  and  for  the  destruction  of  any  possible  ele- 
ment of  infection,  parasitic  or  other.  Except  in 
the  making  of  stews,  where  the  meat  and  the 
water  of  cooking  are  to  be  consumed  together, 
meat  should  be  cooked  by  first  exposing  for  a 
few  minutes  to  a  pretty  high  heat,  and  there- 
after to  a  moderate  temperature  only,  not  to 
exceed  1 70°  F.  The  point  is,  on  the  one  hand, 
to  keep  the  juices  within  the  meat,  and,  on  the 
other,  not  to  heat  the  body  of  the  meat  so  high 
as  to  coagulate  firmly  the  albuminous  elements. 
The  brief  initial  exposure  to  high  heat  coagulates 
a  thin  outer  layer  of  substance  which  thus  seals 
the  mass,  and  then  the  lower  temperature  cooks 
the  deeper  parts  at  a  heat  below  the  coagulation- 
point.  A  properly  cooked  joint,  such  as  a  leg 
of  mutton,  should  have  a  swollen  appearance  and, 
on  piercing  with  a  fork,  should  exude  red  gravy. 
On  cutting,  the  outer  portion  of  the  slice  should 
be  brown  and  firm,  but  the  rest  red,  tender,  and 


94  Eating 

juicy.  A  joint  that  appears  shrunken  and  shows 
the  meat  brown,  dry,  and  shrivelled  has  been 
improperly  cooked. 

Butcher's  meats  are  digestible  in  the  following 
order :  beef  and  mutton,  about  equal ;  then  lamb 
and  veal,  and  lastly  pork.  Salted  and  smoked 
meats  are  not  so  digestible  as  the  fresh  meat  of  the 
same  kind,  except  in  the  case  of  the  pig.  Bacon 
is  much  more  digestible  than  fresh  pork.  Mut- 
ton is  the  subject  of  much  idiosyncrasy.  Many 
persons  dislike  the  flavor,  and  some  are  poisoned 
by  the  meat.  The  meat  of  wild  animals  is  hard, 
whence  the  custom  of  keeping  it  to  the  verge  of 
decomposition  that  it  may  soften. 

Heads  and  feet — calf's  head,  boar's  head,  pig's 
feet,  etc. — give  some  small  strips  of  meat,  but 
mostly  yield  gelatin. 

Liver,  kidney,  and  sweetbread  offer  a  solid 
glandular  substance,  mostly  proteid.  Liver  and 
kidney  are  dense;  sweetbread  of  looser  texture 
and  more  digestible.  Sweetbread  is  of  two  styles, 
from  different  but  similar  organs  of  the  animal. 
Of  the  two,  "throat"  sweetbread — the  common 
article — is  the  more  delicate.  Liver  is  the  one 
animal  food  containing  a  carbohydrate,  glycogen, 
wherefore  it  must  be  eschewed  in  special  dietaries 
excluding  that  kind  of  foodstuff. 

Heart  is  all  muscle  -  substance,  denser,  less 
digestible,  and  less  tasty  than  ordinary  meat. 

Poultry  and  game  birds  give  a  meat  that  is 
lighter,  less  stimulating,  and  more  digestible  than 


Eating  95 

butcher's  meat,  but  one  containing  less  fat  and 
less  nutriment  generally. 

The  meat  of  domestic  ducks  and  geese  is 
harder,  richer,  and  stronger-flavored  than  that 
of  chicken  or  turkey  and  therefore  not  so  digest- 
ible. 

The  flesh  of  fish  is  light  and  digestible,  but 
deficient  in  extractives.  The  notion  that  fish 
is  especially  a  "brain-food"  because  it  contains 
phosphorus  is  nonsense.  The  phosphorus  in  the 
flesh  of  fish  is  in  such  combination  that  it  cannot 
be  made  over  into  brain-phosphorus,  and  also 
the  substance  of  fish  is  not  particularly  rich 
in  phosphorus,  after  all!  Broiled  fish  is  apt  to 
have  an  indigestible  coating;  so  also,  but  in  a 
less  degree,  is  fried.  But  frying  impregnates 
with  indigestible  fat. 

Oysters  and  other  edible  bivalves  make  a 
delicate  and  digestible  food,  especially  when  eaten 
raw.  The  smooth,  bulbous  portion  of  the  animal 
is  the  liver,  and,  like  other  livers,  contains  gly- 
cogen.  Oysters,  therefore,  must  be  banned 
under  circumstances  where  sugars  must  not  be 
taken.  The  popular  idea  that  raw  bivalves  may 
carry  typhoid  infection  is,  alas,  all  too  well 
founded. 

Crabs  and  lobsters  are  digestible  when  abso- 
lutely fresh — straight  from  the  net  or  the  lobster- 
pot.  But  when  kept  in  air,  as  is  the  case  in 
the  markets,  the  animals  are  slowly  dying  from 
the  unnatural  condition,  and  the  flesh  becomes 


96  Eating 

rank  and  unwholesome,  even,  it  may  be,  poison- 
ous. The  meat  is  poor  in  nutriment. 

Gelatin  is  the  representative  albuminoid  of  the 
dietary.  Commercial  gelatin  and  isinglass  con- 
sist of  something  over  three-quarters  part  gelatin, 
with  the  rest  water  and  a  little  mineral  matter. 
Gelatin  dissolves  in  boiling  water,  the  solution 
setting  into  a  jelly  on  cooling.  So  small  a  quan- 
tity as  one  per  cent  of  gelatin  will  cause  the 
solution  to  set,  and  jellies  served  as  food  are 
ordinarily  of  only  about  two  per  cent  strength. 
The  nutritive  value  of  jelly  is,  of  course,  in  kind, 
simply  that  of  an  albuminoid,  and,  in  degree, 
is  very  small  because  of  the  low  gelatin  strength 
of  jellies.  Jelly  is  exceedingly  easy  of  digestion, 
partly  because  albuminoids  are  so  generally  and 
partly  because,  in  jelly,  there  is  so  little  sub- 
stance. The  inadequacy  of  jelly  as  a  food  should 
thoroughly  be  understood.  Even  so  far  as  an 
albuminoid  can  replace  proteid,  it  would  take 
a  quart  of  ordinary  jelly  to  play  substitute  to 
the  proteid  content  of  a  two-and-a-half-ounce 
slice  of  meat. 

Milk,  nature's  one  comprehensive  food  and 
drink  both,  for  the  mammalian  nursling,  contains 
representatives  of  all  four  categories  of  foodstuffs, 
proteids,  fats,  carbohydrates  (sugar),  salts,  and 
water.  All  of  these  representatives  are,  of  their 
kind,  especially  digestible  and  wholesome.  In 
the  stomach,  preliminary  to  digestion,  the  pro- 
teids of  milk  coagulate.  In  the  case  of  milk  from 


Eating  97 

animals  that  chew  the  cud,  such  as  the  cow,  the 
coagulum  is  in  the  form  of  a  dense,  tough  clot, 
whereas  in  other  milks,  including  that  of  the 
human  subject,  it  is  in  granular  flakes.  The 
boiling  of  milk  does  not  clot  the  proteid,  but 
gives  to  the  milk  a  brownish  color  and  a  peculiar 
taste.  By  allowing  boiled  milk  to  stand  for  some 
time  and  then  skimming,  much  of  the  adven- 
titious taste  can  be  made  to  disappear.  Cow's 
milk  varies  in  percentage  composition,  and  from 
natural  causes.  In  the  case  of  pastured  animals, 
the  milk  is  richest  in  the  late  fall  and  early  winter, 
and  thinnest  in  the  corresponding  months  of  the 
summer  season.  But  with  cows  uniformly  fed 
this  seasonal  difference  is  not  so  marked.  The 
evening  milking  is  richer  than  that  of  the  morn- 
ing, and,  in  any  one  milking,  the  last  portion 
drawn  contains  the  most  cream.  A  milk  rich  in 
cream  is  also  correspondingly  rich  in  the  other 
constituents,  so  that  the  general  richness  is 
gauged  most  reliably  by  determining  the  pro- 
portion of  the  fat  content.  Four  per  cent  is  the 
standard. 

Milk  may  be  unwholesome  from  a  variety  of 
causes.  The  milk  of  the  first  three  or  four  weeks 
after  calving  is  peculiar  and  unfit  for  human  use. 
Milk  may  be  poisonous  from  poisonous  herbs  in 
the  pasturage,  or  from  any  excitement  or  irrita- 
tion of  the  milch-cow.  The  milk  of  diseased 
animals,  milk  that  has  soured,  milk  that  is  tinted, 
tainted,  or  of  unnatural  appearance  or  that 


98  Eating 

deposits  a  sediment,  should,  one  and  all,  incon- 
tinently be  thrown  away.  Raw  milk  may  be 
contaminated  with  disease-germs,  as  of  typhoid 
fever,  diphtheria,  tuberculosis,  etc.  Boiling  for  ten 
minutes  will  kill  all  ordinary  germs,  but  so  also 
will  exposure  for  thirty  minutes  to  a  tempera- 
ture of  155°  F.  This  latter  procedure,  called 
pasteurization,  avoids  the  effect  of  boiling  where- 
by the  taste  and  quality  of  the  milk  are  changed. 
Pasteurization,  while  it  kills  bacteria,  does  not 
destroy  such  ptomains  as  may  already  have  been 
developed  in  the  milk  by  bacterial  action. 
Neither  does  it  prevent  the  milk  from  souring  if 
kept  longer  than  three  or  four  days.  Milk  sours 
readily,  especially  when  warm,  and  also  readily 
absorbs  flavors  from  other  things.  Accordingly 
milk  should  be  kept  cold,  without  shaking,  in 
closed  and  scrupulously  clean  vessels,  and  away 
from  other  and  odoriferous  food  substances. 

Milk  is  nourishing,  but  its  ingredients  are  not 
in  the  right  proportion  for  it  to  serve  as  an  ex- 
clusive food  for  the  human  adult.  For  such 
purpose  it  is  deficient  in  carbohydrates.  Accord- 
ingly the  proper  place  for  milk  in  the  dietary  of 
man  is  as  a  proteid  and  fatty  addition  to  a  farina- 
ceous fare,  as  in  the  case  of  bread  and  milk. 
Although  a  fluid,  and  eighty-eight  per  cent 
water,  milk  contains  much  nourishment,  much 
more  indeed  than  is  commonly  realized.  It  is 
estimated  that  a  quart  of  milk  represents  as 
much  nutriment  as  a  pound  ©f  beef! 


Eating  99 

Cow's  milk  is  of  the  following  composition :  * 
water,  from  eighty-seven  to  eighty-eight  per 
cent;  proteids,  from  two  to  three;  sugar,  from 
four  to  five;  fat,  from  three  and  a  half  to  four 
and  a  half;  and  mineral  matter,  less  than  one 
per  cent. 

Cow's  milk  differs  from  that  of  the  human 
subject  not  only  in  the  proportion  of  its  ingredi- 
ents, but  also  in  their  quality.  So  far  as  propor- 
tion is  concerned,  cow's  milk  can  be  brought 
roughly  to  the  human  standard  by  adding  to  it 
one -third  of  its  volume  of  water,  with  half  an 
ounce,  each,  of  sugar  of  milk  and  of  cream  to 
each  pint  of  the  mixture. 

Cream  is  the  skimmings  from  milk  that  has 
stood  for  some  time.  The  fat  of  the  milk  rises 
to  the  surface,  so  that  cream  is  simply  milk  with 
more  than  its  natural  proportion  of  this  ingredi- 
ent. A  good  cream  should  contain  forty-one  per 
cent  of  fat. 

Skim-milk  and  buttermilk  are,  of  course,  de- 
ficient in  fat,  in  the  one  case,  from  removal  of 
the  cream  and,  in  the  other,  from  extraction  of  the 
fat  in  the  shape  of  butter.  These  derivates  are 
digestible  and  nutritious,  each  after  its  kind. 

Condensed  milk  is  whole  milk  or  skim-milk 
evaporated  down  to  about  one-third  of  its  volume 

*  For  the  figures  of  this  and  following  statements  of 
percentage  composition  acknowledgment  is  made  to  Dr. 
Robert  Hutchison  ("Food  and  the  Principles  of  Dietetics", 
New  York,  Wm.  Wood  &  Co.,  1903). 


ioo  Eating 

and  kept  from  spoiling  by  a  heavy  charge  of  cane- 
sugar.  Condensed  milk  often  agrees  better  than 
natural  milk. 

Koumyss  is  milk  where,  by  special  treatment, 
there  have  been  produced  simultaneously  the 
lactic  and  the  alcoholic  fermentation  of  the 
sugar.  The  result  is  a  milk-like  fluid,  pleasantly 
acidulous,  effervescent,  feebly  alcoholic  (some- 
what over  one  per  cent),  and  containing  little 
grains  of  clotted  proteid.  The  name  "koumyss" 
properly  belongs  to  the  original  preparation  made 
by  Tartars  from  mare's  milk,  but  the  word  is 
now  quite  commonly  applied  to  the  imitation 
preparation  manufactured  from  cow's  milk. 
Cow's-milk  koumyss  was  formerly  known  as 
kephir.  From  the  fact  that  in  koumyss  the  pro- 
teids  are  precipitated  in  granular  form,  they  do 
not  clot  in  the  stomach.  Accordingly  koumyss 
is,  at  once,  easier  of  digestion  than  milk  and 
especially  refreshing  by  reason  of  its  acidulous 
flavor,  effervescence,  and  slight  impregnation  with 
alcohol. 

Matzoon  is  milk  that  has  been  acted  on  by  a 
special  ferment  got  from  Armenia.  As  in  the 
case  of  koumyss,  lactic  acid  and  alcohol  are  pro- 
duced, but  the  alcohol  in  much  less  proportion. 
Also  there  is  still  present  much  sugar  that  has 
escaped  fermentation. 

Butter  is  not  pure  fat  but  contains  water,  a 
little  proteid,  mineral  salts,  and  a  trifle  of  milk- 
sugar.  The  proportion  of  fat  is  about  eighty 


Eating  101 

per  cent.  Decomposition  of  the  proteid  content 
promotes  rancidity.  Butter  is  commonly  treated 
with  salt  as  a  preservative.  Raw  butter  is  very 
digestible  indeed,  whether  solid  or  melted. 
Cooked  butter  may  disagree  by  reason  of  the 
liberation,  through  the  heat  of  cooking,  of  certain 
irritant  fatty  acids.  Among  fatty  foods,  butter 
most  nearly  resembles,  in  constitution  as  a  fat, 
the  fat  of  the  human  body. 

Margarine  ("oleomargarine")  is  an  artificial 
butter  manufactured  from  animal  fats.  It  con- 
tains the  same  proportion  of  fat  as  butter,  with- 
out the  proteid  and  with  less  of  the  soluble  and 
fatty  acids.  Its  flavor  is  that  of  an  average 
natural  butter.  It  is  now  made  from  pure  fats, 
and  is  in  every  way  a  proper  and  wholesome 
food. 

Cheese  is  practically  one-third  part,  each,  of 
casein  (a  derivate  of  the  principal  proteid  of 
milk),  butter,  and  water.  Dry  flaky  cheeses, 
eaten  in  moderation,  are  fairly  digestible,  but 
new,  compact,  and  comparatively  insipid  cheeses 
are  apt  to  disagree.  Curds  and^  cream  cheeses 
are  delicate  and  digestible.  Cheese  sometimes 
undergoes  peculiar  changes,  developing  poison- 
ous substances.  From  its  compactness,  cheese 
contains  a  high  percentage  of  nourishment,  twice 
as  much,  indeed,  as  beef. 

Egg,  like  milk,  is  a  nature  food,  affording,  as  it 
must,  the  sum  of  the  material  out  of  which  the 
germ  is  to  build  itself  into  a  chick,  bones,  beak, 


IO2  Eating 

claws,  feathers,  and  all!  The  yolk  contains  most 
of  the  nourishment,  the  white  being  made  up  of 
twelve  per  cent,  or  so,  of  proteid  with  a  little  min- 
eral matter,  and  the  rest  water.  Yolk  of  egg  is 
nearly  one-half  solid  substance,  containing  about 
seventeen  per  cent  of  proteid  and  twenty  of  fat. 
In  smaller  proportion  it  contains  also  salts, 
especially  lime  salts,  and  phosphorus  and  iron 
in  a  readily  assimilable  condition.  There  is  no 
carbohydrate  in  egg,  since  the  developing  chick 
has  nothing  to  do  but  to  keep  still  and  grow,  and 
so  has  small  need  for  fuel  food. 

Egg  is  thus  a  highly  nutritious  combination  of 
proteid,  fat,  and  valuable  building  salts.  From 
its  lack  of  a  carbohydrate  element,  its  place  in  the 
dietary  is  naturally  alongside  of  farinaceous 
foods,  as  in  the  classical  breakfast  combination 
of  an  egg  and  a  roll.  Like  animal  foods  gener- 
ally, egg  is  most  digestible  taken  raw.  The 
white,  however,  is  more  digestible  when  beaten 
up,  since  by  this  measure  the  cellular  walls  that 
encase  the  solution  of  proteid  are  ruptured,  set- 
ting free  the  contents  for  easier  attack  by  the 
digestive  juices.  If  egg  be  cooked,  the  lighter 
the  cooking  the  better,  but  yet  hard-boiled  egg, 
if  finely  minced,  appears  to  be  nearly,  if  not 
quite,  as  digestible  as  the  soft-boiled  article.  Egg 
is  readily  and  fully  absorbed.  Many  persons  dis- 
like egg  and  many  are  even  poisoned  by  it. 

The  shell  of  egg  is  so  porous  that,  on  keeping, 
the  egg  will  grow  lighter  by  evaporation  through 


Eating  103 

the  shell.  A  fresh  egg  sinks  at  once  in  brine  of 
ten  per  cent  strength  and  then  tends  more  and 
more  to  float  on  keeping.  This  same  porosity 
of  the  shell  permits  entry  into  the  egg  from 
without  of  micro-organisms  that  will  deter- 
mine its  decomposition.  For  preservation,  eggs 
must  be  kept  in  the  cold,  and,  in  market,  should 
carefully  be  set  out  of  the  sun.  Preservation  will 
be  enhanced  by  coating  the  shell  when  quite 
fresh  with  a  solution  of  albumen  or  of  gum,  or 
with  a  thin  layer  of  melted  wax  or  paraffin. 

The  average  hen's  egg  weighs  two  ounces,  and 
from  seven  to  ten  eggs  are  about  the  equivalent, 
in  nutritive  value,  of  a  pound  of  beef. 

Vegetable  foods  are  exceedingly  diverse  both 
in  general  quality  and  in  proportion  of  contained 
foodstuffs.  As  a  class,  they  are  characterized  by 
containing  a  large  proportion  of  water  and  more 
or  less  very  indigestible  matter  in  the  shape  of 
vegetable  fibre  or  cellulose.  Of  the  organic  food- 
stuffs they  contain  proteids,  fats,  and  carbohy- 
drates, but  no  albuminoids.  Proteids  are  present 
in  the  leguminous  seeds  in  as  high  percentage  as 
in  meat,  but  elsewhere  in  the  vegetable  kingdom 
in  much  smaller  proportion.  Fats  also  are  defi- 
cient, but  carbohydrates — essentially  vegetable 
products — occur  in  all  proportions  from  next  to 
none  to  pretty  much  the  whole  of  the  solid 
content. 

Reversing  the  case  of  meats,  vegetable  foods 


1 04  Eating 

are  most  digestible  cooked;  and,  as  a  rule,  the 
longer  the  cooking  (within  reason)  the  better. 
Raw  vegetable  foods,  especially  such  as  are 
culled  from  near  the  surface  of  the  soil,  are  pos- 
sible carriers  of  disease-germs,  accidentally  lodged. 
Vegetable  foods  are  digestible  and  absorbable, 
roughly  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  contained 
foodstuff.  Vegetable  proteids  and  fats  are  in- 
trinsically digestible  of  their  kind,  and  so  are 
the  carbohydrates,  but  in  vegetable  messes  bulky 
from  the  presence  of  much  cellulose  and  water, 
there  is  mechanical  impediment  to  quick  and 
thorough  digestion  and  absorption  of  the  food- 
stuffs. The  proteids  seem  to  suffer  most  in  this 
regard. 

The  cereals  are  plants  belonging  to  the  order 
of  the  grasses.  The  seed  contains  nutriment  for 
the  sprouting  germ  exactly  as  does  an  egg  for 
the  developing  nestling.  The  seeds  of  the  cereals, 
or  grains,  contain  representatives  of  all  kinds  of 
foodstuffs  except  albuminoids,  namely,  proteids, 
fats,  sugars,  starches,  salts,  and  water.  Weight 
for  weight,  they  contain  much  more  solid  matter 
than  animal  foods.  Thus  lean  meat  is  only  one- 
quarter  solid  substance,  whereas  wheat  is  eighty- 
eight  per  cent  solids.  The  percentage  composi- 
tion of  the  cereal  grains  ranges  as  follows:  pro- 
teid,  from  seven  to  thirteen  per  cent,  highest  in 
oats,  lowest  in  rice;  fat,  from  one-half  per  cent 
to  five  and  even  eight  per  cent,  highest  in  hulled 
oats  and  in  maize,  lowest  in  rice;  carbohydrates, 


Eating  105 

from  sixty  to  eighty  per  cent,  highest  in  rice, 
lowest  in  oats  and  maize;  mineral  matter,  from 
one  half  per  cent  to  two  and  a  half  per  cent, 
highest  in  barley,  lowest  in  rice,  but  the  range  of 
difference  not  very  great;  water,  from  seven  to 
twelve  and  a  half  per  cent,  highest  in  maize, 
lowest  in  oats;  cellulose  (indigestible  fibre),  from 
one  half  to  four  per  cent,  highest  in  barley,  lowest 
in  rice.  It  thus  appears  that  oats  contain  the 
most  proteid  and  fat,  and  rice  the  most  starch; 
rice,  indeed,  containing  but  little  of  other  solid 
substance.  Maize  is  rather  poor  in  proteid  but 
contains  much  fat,  while  wheat,  rye,  and  barley 
occupy  a  middle  ground,  wheat  containing  the 
most  proteid  of  the  three  and  also  being  the 
most  generally  digestible  of  all  the  grains.  Oat- 
meal and  Indian  corn  are  the  most  liable  to  dis- 
agree with  a  delicate  stomach.  Wheat  and  rye 
are  peculiarly  valuable  for  containing  gluten,  a 
certain  mixture  of  proteids  that  determines  the 
possibility  of  making  bread. 

Wheat  is,  of  the  two  bread-yielding  grains,  the 
most  generally  valuable.  The  seed  consists  of 
three  parts:  a  tough  outer  containing  envelope, 
the  bran;  a  mass  of  nutritious  substance  for  use 
of  the  sprouting  germ,  the  endosperm,  and  the 
germ  itself.  These  various  parts  all  contain  the 
several  constituents  of  the  grain,  but  in  different 
proportion.  The  bran  is  poor  in  carbohydrates, 
fairly  rich  in  proteid  and  fat,  and  especially  rich 
in  cellulose  and  in  mineral  matter.  The  endo- 


1 06  Eating 

sperm  contains  a  moderate  proportion  of  pro- 
teid  (about  ten  per  cent),  hardly  any  fat,  cellulose, 
or  mineral  matter,  but  an  abundance  of  carbo- 
hydrate (seventy-four  per  cent).  The  germ  con- 
tains little  cellulose  and  comparatively  little  carbo- 
hydrate (thirty-one  per  cent),  but  is  rich  in 
mineral  matter  and  in  fat  (thirteen  per  cent)  and 
pre-eminently  so  in  proteid,  of  which  important 
foodstuff  it  contains  over  thirty  per  cent. 

Now  different  flours  contain  these  different 
parts  of  the  grain  in  different  proportion,  from 
whole-wheat  flour,  made  of  the  grain  in  its 
entirety,  to  a  fine  white  flour  ground  from  the 
endosperm  alone.  The  bran  is  commonly  re- 
jected because  difficult  to  grind,  and  the  germ 
because  its  abundant  oil  is  liable  to  become 
rancid,  and  its  abundant  soluble  proteids,  by  a 
reaction  upon  the  starch,  to  darken  the  bread 
in  the  baking.  Of  course  this  latter  objection  is 
no  real  objection  at  all  except  to  the  baker,  who 
finds  that  he  cannot  sell  a  dusky  loaf  as  readily 
as  one  whose  crumb  is  of  a  virgin-white.  The 
rejection  of  the  bran  and  the  germ  makes  waste, 
for  both  of  these  structures  contain  valuable 
nutriment.  For  the  saving  of  some  of  this 
waste  special  methods  of  treatment  have  been 
devised.  One  treats  the  germ  with  superheated 
steam,  thereby  sterilizing  both  the  oil  and  the 
ferment  contained  in  the  soluble  proteids,  so  as 
to  make  the  germ-contents  powerless  for  harm. 
Meal  made  from  such  sterilized  germs  is  then 


Eating  107 

added  to  ordinary  flour  in  the  proportion  of  one 
to  three.  Such  mixture  is  "Hovis  flour".  An- 
other process  attacks  the  bran.  The  bran  is 
boiled  under  high  pressure  and  the  resulting 
extract  filtered  and  evaporated  to  dryness.  By 
the  boiling,  the  cellulose  is  disintegrated  and  its 
constituents  dissolved  out.  The  powdered  ex- 
tract constitutes  "Frame  Food  Extract". 

Bread  is  made  from  wheat  or  rye.  These  two 
grains,  and  these  only,  contain  that  special  mix- 
ture of  proteids  called  gluten.  Gluten  is  peculiar 
in  that  it  becomes  viscid  on  mixing  with  water, 
so  that  when  the  dough  is  interpenetrated  with 
a  gas  and  baked,  it  swells  up  into  a  vesiculate, 
sponge-like  mass — bread.  The  gas  for  use  in 
this  process  may  be  got  in  several  ways.  The 
oldest  and  still  the  commonest  source  is  the 
dough  itself  through  vinous  fermentation  of  its 
sugar.  Formerly  the  fermentation  was  deter- 
mined by  leaven,  but  now  brewer's  yeast  is  used 
instead.  As  usual  in  vinous  fermentation  the 
products  are  alcohol,  carbon  dioxide,  and  water. 
The  greater  part  of  the  alcohol  is  volatilized 
and  driven  off  by  the  heat  of  the  baking,  but 
yet  a  little  remains,  perhaps  as  much  to  a  loaf 
as  would  be  represented  by  a  half-teaspoonful 
of  whiskey.  This  fact  should  be  noted  by  the 
teetotaler  absolute,  for  if  mince-pie  is  to  be 
banned  because  flavored  with  brandy,  yeast- 
made  bread  must  suffer  excommunication  like- 
wise! 


io8  Eating 

Carbon  dioxide  may  be  generated  in  the 
dough  by  chemical  means,  through  the  action  of 
an  acid  upon  a  carbonate,  in  the  presence  of 
water.  Mixtures  of  the  necessary  chemicals  for 
such  reaction  constitute  "baking-powders".  The 
powder  is  mixed,  dry,  with  the  flour,  and  then 
when  water  is  added  to  make  the  dough,  reaction 
takes  place,  with  evolution  of  carbon-dioxide 
gas.  The  best  baking-powder  is  a  mixture  of 
tartaric  acid  and  acid  sodium  carbonate  ("bicar- 
bonate of  soda").  This  mixture  yields  a  large 
volume  of  gas  and  its  ingredients  are  wholly 
innocent.  In  other  powders,  tartaric  acid  is 
replaced  by  potassium  acid  tartarte  ("cream  of 
tartar").  This  powder,  however,  yields  only 
half  as  much  gas  as  the  first-mentioned.  Pow- 
ders containing  alum  are  to  be  condemned. 

In  yet  a  third  method  of  bread-making,  water 
is  saturated  with  gas  and  then  mixed  with  the 
flour  in  air-tight  chambers  under  pressure.  When 
the  pressure  is  released,  the  gas  expands  through- 
out the  dough.  This  method  requires  special 
machinery  and  produces  a  bread  rather  dry  and 
tasteless.  Bread  so  made  is  known  as  "aerated 
bread." 

Bread  is  forty  per  cent  water  and  sixty  per  cent 
solid  matter,  all  of  which  is  nutriment,  except  an 
insignificant  amount  of  cellulose.  The  several 
nutritive  constituents  are  proteid,  six  and  a  half 
per  cent;  carbohydrates,  fifty-one  per  cent  and 
over ;  fat  and  mineral  matter,  one  per  cent  each. 


Eating  109 

Weight  for  weight,  bread  contains  more  nourish- 
ment than  almost  any  other  food.  In  proportion 
of  ingredients  it  is  deficient  in  fat  and  in  proteid. 
Accordingly  the  instinctive  combination  of  bread 
with  butter  and  of  both  with  milk,  egg,  or  meat  is 
well  chosen. 

White  bread  is  bread  made  from  flour 
ground  from  the  endosperm  only.  Brown  bread 
may  be  bread  made  from  whole-wheat  meal 
("Graham  bread"),  or  from  a  flour  to  which 
has  been  added  a  certain  proportion  of  bran 
or  of  ground  germ.  White  bread  contains  the 
more  carbohydrate,  but  not  always  the  less 
proteid.  It  is  by  no  means  always  certain,  there- 
fore, that  a  brown  loaf  is  more  nutritious  than 
its  white  neighbor. 

On  keeping,  bread  slowly- loses  water  and,  in 
some  unknown  way,  suffers  the  change  consti- 
tuting staleness.  Heating  in  an  oven  restores 
the  quality  of  freshness,  although  thereby  the 
bread  loses  still  more  water.  Overdry  stale 
bread  cannot  so  be  freshened.  Stale  bread  is 
not  so  tasty  as  fresh,  but  is  easier  of  digestion, 
since  it  does  not  agglutinate  in  the  chewing. 

Biscuits,  or  "  crackers  ",  are  made  by  the  baking 
of  dough  with  little  or  no  infiltration  of  gas. 
They  contain  but  little  water,  and  accordingly, 
weight  for  weight,  contain  more  nutriment  than 
bread. 

Buckwheat  does  not  belong  to  the  grasses,  but 
yet  is  analogous  to  the  true  cereals.  In  pro- 


i  i  o  Eating 

portion  of  proteid,  fat,  and  mineral  matter  it 
resembles  rye,  but  it  contains  a  low  percentage 
of  carbohydrates  (a  little  over  sixty-one  per 
cent)  and  an  exceptionally  large  proportion  of 
cellulose  (eleven  per  cent). 

The  pulses  are  similar  in  composition  to  the 
cereals,  but  are  characterized  by  containing  twice 
as  much  proteid,  somewhat  less  starch,  and  com- 
paratively little  fat.  The  amount  of  proteid 
may  range  even  higher  than  in  meat  (over 
twenty-six  per  cent  in  dry  beans).  The  fat  is 
deficient  (about  two  per  cent),  wherefore  the 
instinct  to  eat  fat  bacon  with  beans.  Legumi- 
nous seeds  need  thorough  boiling  and  are,  at  best, 
less  digestible  than  the  cereals.  They  can  be 
eaten  in  moderate  quantity  only,  without  risk 
of  upsetting  the  stomach. 

Tuberous  roots  contain  less  nutriment  than 
seeds,  and  that  principally  in  the  form  of  carbo- 
hydrates. But  they  contain  agreeably  flavored 
juices  and  especially  potash  salts,  making  them 
antiscorbutic.  From  their  great  deficiency  in 
proteid  they  cannot  be  used  as  the  staple  of  the 
dietary  without  some  proteid  addition. 

The  potato  is  the  most  important  of  the 
tubers,  and  its  percentage  composition  illustrates 
well  the  poverty  in  nutriment  of  this  class  of 
food.  Potato  is  over  eighty-one  per  cent  water 
and  contains  only  a  fraction  of  one  per  cent  of 
either  proteid,  fat,  or  mineral  matter.  The  main 


Eating  ill 

bulk  of  the  solid  substance  is  starch  (fifteen  and 
a  half  per  cent  of  total  carbohydrates).  Though 
the  amount  of  mineral  matter  is  small,  the  salts 
are  of  potash  and  partly  in  the  form  of  citrates, 
so  that  potato  is  distinctly  antiscorbutic.  Be- 
cause of  the  insignificant  proteid  content,  potato 
cannot  constitute  a  principal  element  of  the 
dietary.  It  must  be  regarded  simply  as  so  much 
carbohydrate,  agreeably  flavored  and  combined 
with  useful  potash  salts.  But  its  starch  is  par- 
ticularly easy  of  digestion  and  absorption.  The 
nutritive  value  of  a  potato  will  depend  a  great 
deal  on  the  cooking,  for  the  nitrogenous  elements 
and  the  salts  are  easily  dissolved  out  and  lost  by 
the  action  of  water.  For  this  reason  potatoes 
are  better  steamed  than  boiled,  or  else  cooked 
in  their  jackets.  New  potatoes  contain  more 
proteid  than  the  old,  for  which  reason  they  are 
waxy  rather  than  mealy. 

Turnips,  carrots,  parsnips,  and  beets  are  even 
more  watery  than  potato.  The  last  three  are 
distinctly  saccharine,  beets  much  the  most  so 
of  the  three.  The  sugar-beet  may  contain  as 
high  as  fifteen  per  cent  of  sugar,  but  much  of 
this  is  lost  in  the  cooking.  The  sugar  is  cane- 
sugar. 

Onions  contain  but  little  nutriment  of  any 
kind.  Their  use  is  mainly  for  seasoning. 

Leaves  and  stalks  contain  comparatively  little 
nutriment,  but  are  valuable  for  their  fresh  juices 


ii2  Eating 

and  salts.  Also  they  help  to  give  proper  volume 
to  the  food.  When  thoroughly  cooked,  they  are 
ordinarily  digestible.  The  more  tender  among 
them  may  also  be  eaten  raw,  as  salads.  Since  it 
is  possible  for  exposed  vegetables  to  lodge  infec- 
tious dust,  greens  should  be  washed  well  before 
serving. 

Fruits  contain  but  little  nourishment  and  that 
mainly  in  the  form  of  sugar.  The  sugar  is 
fruit-sugar,  a  different  kind  from  cane-sugar, 
less  sweet,  more  easily  assimilable,  and  so  much 
less  obnoxious  to  the  diabetic.  But  some  fruits, 
notably  apples,  pineapples,  and  apricots,  contain 
also  cane-sugar.  Besides  the  nourishment  of  the 
sugar,  so  far  as  it  goes,  fruits  are  valuable  for 
containing  potash  salts  of  organic,  fruit  acids, 
which  impart  both  an  agreeable  flavor  and  anti- 
scorbutic properties.  Like  all  vegetable  foods, 
fruits  are  more  digestible  when  cooked.  Unripe 
fruit  is  irritating  from  excess  of  acid  and  of  cellu- 
lose, both.  Some  fruits,  such  as  grapes,  dates, 
figs,  and  bananas,  contain  enough  carbohydrate 
to  have  a  distinct  food  value. 

The  tomato,  though  served  as  a  vegetable, 
belongs,  of  course,  among  the  fruits.  Tomatoes 
contain  very  little  nutriment — not  so  much  as 
apples — the  only  constituent  present  in  more 
than  a  fraction  of  one  per  cent  being  carbohy- 
drates (three  and  a  half  per  cent).  The  fruit  is 
ninety-four  parts  water. 


Eating  1 1 3 

Quite  different  from  the  succulent  fruits,  nuts 
contain  a  high  percentage  of  nutriment  and 
especially  of  fats  (from  fifty  to  sixty  per  cent) 
and  proteids  (from  fifteen  to  twenty  per  cent). 
They  contain  but  little  carbohydrate  (from  nine 
to  twelve  per  cent)  and  even  less  water  (four  or 
five  per  cent).  From  their  composition  nuts 
stand  as  a  nutritious  fatty  food.  They  are, 
however,  rather  difficult  of  digestion.  Chestnuts 
contain  an  exceptional  amount  of  carbohydrates, 
and  almonds  of  proteids. 

Fungi  contain  little  nutriment,  and  that  mainly 
carbohydrate.  They  are  esteemed  chiefly  for 
their  flavor.  They  are  not  easy  either  of  diges- 
tion or  absorption.  Some  are  poisonous,  but  very 
many  more  are  edible  than  is  commonly  sup- 
posed to  be  the  case. 

Sago,  tapioca,  and  arrowroot  are  prepared 
starches.  They  contain  but  an  insignificant 
amount  of  nitrogenous  matter.  Sago  is  derived 
from  the  pith  of  certain  palms,  tapioca  and  arrow- 
root from  roots. 

Sugar  is  prepared  from  the  sugar-cane,  from 
beet-root,  and  from  the  sugar-maple  tree.  The 
crude  juice  containing  the  sugar  in  solution  is 
purified  and  then,  by  evaporation,  the  sugar  is 
obtained  in  crystals,  which  are  still  further 
purified.  The  sugar  from  all  three  of  these 


114  Eating 

sources  is  the  same  thing,  cane-sugar,  the  peculiar 
flavor  of  maple-sugar  coming  from  certain  ethers. 

Honey  is  the  saccharine  juice  of  flowers,  col- 
lected by  the  bee.  It  is  about  twenty  per  cent 
water  and  the  rest  nearly  all  sugar.  The  sugar 
is  the  so-called  "invert"  sugar,  that  is,  a  mixture 
of  grape-sugar  and  fruit-sugar  in  nearly  equal 
proportion. 

Chocolate  is  made  of  the  ground  nibs  of  the 
cocoa,  mixed  with  cane-sugar,  starch,  and  flavor- 
ings. The  cocoa-bean  contains  one-half  of  its 
weight  of  a  fat,  "cocoa-butter",  but  in  making 
the  commercial  powdered  cocoa  much  of  this  fat 
is  removed.  The  bean  also  contains  some  pro- 
teid.  Chocolate  is  nearly  one-half  sugar.  It  is 
nourishing,  but  likely  to  pall  in  any  but  a  mod- 
erate quantity. 


CHAPTER  III 
DRINKING 

Honest  water  which  ne'er  left  man  i*  the  mire 

— SHAKESPEARE 

NEARLY  seventy  per  cent  of  the  weight  of  the 
human  body  is  made  up  of  water.  Excretion  of 
water  is  constant,  so  that  the  loss  by  waste  must  be 
made  good  by  a  constant  renewal  of  supply.  Such 
renewal  is  effected  in  part  by  eating,  for  about 
one-half,  by  weight,  of  the  substance  of  food  as 
served  upon  the  table  is  water.  But  over  and 
above  the  water  so  taken  there  remains  an  aver- 
age of  about  two  and  a  half  pints — three  tum- 
blerfuls — that  must  be  supplied  by  drinking. 

But  while  the  quantity  of  three  tumblerfuls  is 
thus  estimated  as  the  correct  daily  average  to 
be  drunk,  circumstances  will  alter  cases  very 
decidedly,  and  also  a  deliberate  departure  from 
standard  requirement  in  either  direction  will 
work  no  harm  unless  carried  to  excess.  For 
since  any  considerable  change  in  either  the  vol- 
ume or  the  specific  gravity  of  the  blood  would  be 
disastrous,  nature  makes  a  beautiful  provision 
against  the  effects  in  such  direction  of  either  an 

"5 


Ii6  Drinking 

undersupply  or  an  oversupply  of  fluid.  The  loose 
tissues  of  the  body  contain  water,  so  constituting 
quite  a  reservoir  of  the  same  within  the  system, 
and  this  stock  can  be  increased  or  diminished 
within  bounds  without  other  effect  than  to  aug- 
ment or  reduce  temporarily  the  weight  of  the 
subject.  Accordingly  by  spilling  over  into  the 
reservoir  in  the  one  case,  or  drawing  upon  its 
supply  in  the  other,  the  system  nullifies  the  effect 
of  any  temporary  excess  or  deficiency  of  consump- 
tion of  fluid. 

Underdrinking,  like  undereating,  is  rare,  for 
thirst  is  distressing  and  water  is  plentiful  and 
cheap.  Overconsumption  of  fluid,  however,  is 
a  common  fault,  and  when  carried  so  far  as  to 
pass  nature's  limit  of  adjustment  is  distinctly 
baleful.  The  subject  bloats,  gaining  in  weight, 
not  by  fattening,  but  by  waterlogging.  At  the 
same  time  there  is  a  tendency  to  overdistension 
of  the  blood-vessels,  with  a  long  train  of  disastrous 
consequences.  Many  of  the  woes  suffered  by  tea- 
drinkers  and  by  beer-bibbers  come  not  from  the 
intrinsic  qualities  of  the  pet  beverage,  but  sim- 
ply from  the  inordinate  quantity  of  fluid  poured 
upon  laboring  heart,  arteries,  and  tissues. 

Water  undergoes  no  digestion,  entering  and 
leaving  the  system  chemically  unchanged.  Un- 
less taken  in  excess,  its  presence  in  the  stomach 
along  with  food  does  not  interfere  with  digestion. 
There  is  therefore  no  objection  to  a  pint  or  so  of 
drink  to  be  taken  with  meals,  although,  as  stated 


Drinking  1 17 

in  the  preceding  chapter,  it  is  better,  as  it  is 
more  natural,  to  withhold  the  drinking  until  the 
eating  be  done,  and  to  avoid  washing  the  food 
down  the  throat  with  drink. 

As  to  the  nature  of  the  fluid  by  which  the 
necessary  water-supply  is  to  be  obtained,  it  may 
safely  be  said  that  the  simplest  and  most  natural 
way  to  supply  water  by  drinking  is  to  drink 
water,  and  every  plant  and  animal  other  than 
man  drinks  nothing  else.  Innocent  additions  to 
drinking-water  are,  of  course,  unobjectionable 
except  in  so  far  as  they  tempt  to  the  drinking  of 
more  water  than  is  required  either  for  the  needs 
of  the  system  or  for  the  quenching  of  thirst. 

Water  may  be  taken  hot  or  cold  according  to 
taste.  Hot  water,  or  other  form  of  hot  drink,  dis- 
tinctly stimulates  the  natural  movements  of  the 
stomach  during  digestion,  and  thus  aids  the  proc- 
ess itself.  Iced  water  is  simply  a  national  fad. 
While  the  stinging  stuff  is  not  so  deadly  as  ex- 
tremists would  have  believed,  it  certainly  is  not 
so  wholesome  as  water  at  a  more  natural  tem- 
perature. 

Shall  the  water  be  plain  or  artificially  aerated? 
The  question  is  a  moot  one.  On  the  one  hand, 
carbon-dioxide  gas,  like  heat,  stimulates  gastric 
activity,  but,  on  the  other,  it  distends  the  stomach 
with  gas,  a  circumstance  that  may  be  quite  dis- 
tressing to  a  weak  heart.  On  the  whole,  nature's 
lead  may  safely  be  taken  for  guidance  here  as 
elsewhere,  and  water  be  drunk  with  only  so  much 


n8  Drinking 

of  sparkle  as  nature's  own  fountains  provide.  To 
a  healthy  stomach,  at  least,  artificial  stimulation 
by  aerated  water  is  wholly  unnecessary. 

Potable  waters  differ  quite  considerably  in 
composition,  and,  within  limits,  (except  as  to 
the  presence  of  disease-germs,)  the  composition 
does  not  signify.  Distilled  water  is,  of  course, 
water  and  nothing  else,  but  nature's  waters  are 
not  distilled  and  always  contain,  in  solution  or 
suspension,  something,  and  commonly  many  some- 
things, derived  from  the  soil  or  the  air  through 
which  the  water  has  flowed  or  fallen.  Broadly 
classed,  these  constituent  things  and  their  effects 
on  the  human  system  are  a5  follows : 

Soluble  salts  are  dissolved  by  water  as  it 
courses  over  or  through  soil.  These  salts  are 
intrinsically  innocent,  being,  ordinarily,  common 
compounds  of  sodium,  potassium,  magnesium,  and 
calcium  (lime).  According  to  the  proportion  of 
lime  salts,  a  water  is  "soft"  or  "hard".  For 
obvious  reasons,  salts  occur  least  in  rain-water, 
more  in  river-  and  lake -waters,  and  most  in  waters 
that  have  percolated  through  soil  and  rocks — 
that  is,  spring-  and  well-waters.  Certain  springs 
have  unusual  and  special  saline  ingredients,  or 
common  ingredients  in  unusual  proportion.  Such 
waters  are  called  "mineral"  waters,  and  have, 
each,  their  special  characteristics.  The  quantity 
of  salts  present  in  natural  waters  may  range  from 
none  at  all,  as  in  rain-water,  to  over  a  thousand 


Drinking  119 

grains  per  gallon,  as  in  some  mineral  springs  and 
artesian  wells. 

In  ordinary  waters  it  is  only  the  lime  and 
magnesia  compounds  that  concern  for  drinking. 
In  large  proportion,  making  a  water  very  hard, 
these  salts  are  objectionable,  but  as  ordinarily 
occurring  they  certainly  do  no  harm,  if  indeed 
they  be  not  positively  beneficial.  To  go  to  the 
trouble  of  buying  some  specially  "pure"  bottled 
water  which  will  differ  from  the  perfectly  whole- 
some tap-water  in  the  adjoining  pantry  only  by 
a  grain  or  so  per  gallon  less  of  some  innocent 
salt  is  certainly  the  height  of  absurdity.  A  good 
potable  water  should  contain  not  more  than  one 
and  a  half  grains  per  gallon  of  lime  salts. 

Mud  is  not  poisonous,  and  a  wholesome  water 
opalescent  from  simple  mud  in  suspension  offends 
only  the  imagination. 

Living  organisms,  in  shape  of  the  fearful  mon- 
sters shown  in  magic  lanterns  as  inhabiting  a  drop 
of  water,  inhabit  only  the  reeking,  stagnant  water 
of  ditches  and  not  such  waters  as  are  used  for 
drinking.  And  at  their  worst  they  are  in  micro- 
scopic miniature  only,  so  that  they  may  wholly 
be  disregarded.  Even  a  stray  wriggler  from  a 
well,  obvious  to  the  naked  eye,  would  fall  a  quick 
prey  to  the  fierce  juices  of  the  digestive  tract  of 
man. 

Organic  matter  is  the  one  kind  of  contamina- 
tion of  drinking-water  that  really  is  dangerous 
to  health.  Decaying  vegetable  matter  may  make 


I2O  Drinking 

a  water  sickening,  but  in  such  case  the  contamina- 
tion commonly  declares  its  presence  by  an  offensive 
taste  and  smell.  Animal  derivates  are  far  more 
dangerous,  both  intrinsically  and  also  because  con- 
tamination from  such  source  may  not  affect  the 
seeming  purity  of  the  water  in  the  slightest, 
either  to  eye,  nose,  or  tongue.  Thus,  while  a 
water  actually  yellowed  by  vegetable  matter  may 
not  be  unwholesome,  another,  cool,  clear,  spark- 
ling, and  delicious,  may  be  the  purveyor  of  dis- 
ease-germs and  death. 

Contamination  from  an  animal  source  com- 
monly means  impregnation  of  a  water  with  do- 
mestic outcastings,  notably  with  sewage.  Sewage 
impregnation  may  and  does  occur  in  the  most  ec- 
centric of  ways,  but  ordinarily  it  comes  about 
either  by  direct  discharge  of  drains  into  streams 
or  by  soakage  from  leaching  cesspools  and  other 
vaults  into  the  underground  watercourses  that 
feed  springs  and  wells. 

"Beware  of  the  dog!"  conspicuously  proclaims 
the  farmyard  gatepost;  but  what  sign  warns  the 
unsuspecting  tramp,  begging  a  drink  of  water 
at  the  kitchen-door,  of  the  danger  far  worse  than 
dog-bite  that  lurks  in  the  sparkle  of  the  cup  so 
freely  offered  him? 

"The  old  oaken  bucket, 
The  iron-bound  bucket, 
The  moss-covered  bucket 

That  hung  in  the  well!" 

— And  the  hoary  old  horror  hangs  there   still: 


Drinking  121 

hangs  not  ten  paces  from  where,  in  one  direction, 
the  hired  girl  is  emptying  slops  into  a  leaching- 
drain,  and,  in  another,  a  sentry-box  outhouse  is 
hiding  its  one-eyed  head  behind  a  green-slatted 
screen.  Safer  far  will  it  be  for  the  wayfarer  to 
beg  the  price  of  a  beer  at  the  public  house  down 
the  road.  Then  he  will  have  no  cause  to  reck 
if  he  hears  Boniface  remark  to  lounging  Jehu 
beyond  the  bar:  "  Queer  now,  how  that  city  chap 
up  to  the  farmhouse  got  the  typhoid  fever,  ain't 
it?" 

To  be  even  reasonably  safe,  a  well  should  be, 
at  the  very  least,  sixty  feet  from  any  and  all 
receptacles  of  animal  refuse  or  outlets  of  drains, 
and  in  a  direction  not  down -hill  therefrom.  But, 
except  in  the  case  of  a  decided  declivity,  the  lay 
of  the  land  affords  no  protection  of  direction. 
Subterranean  water  flows  according  to  the  dip  of 
the  stratification,  which  dip  has  no  relation  what- 
ever to  that  of  the  surface  of  the  ground.  From 
geologic  causes,  rock  stratification  shows  every 
conceivable  deformity  of  tipping,  buckling,  and 
breaking,  till  even,  as  in  the  case  qf  the  Palisades 
of  the  Hudson,  what  was  originally  horizontal 
stands  bolt -upright.  Given,  then,  the  combina- 
tion of  a  well  and  a  cesspool,  and  it  is  purely  a 
matter  of  luck  whether  or  not  contamination 
will  occur.  An  underground  watercourse  may 
chance  to  run  directly  from  the  site  of  a  drain  to 
that  of  a  quite  distant  well,  and  on  the  other 
hand,  as  in  a  case  the  writer  once  met,  a  pump 


122  Drinking 

may  peep  from  the  ground  within  six  feet  of  an 
old-fashioned  leaching-vault  and  yet  deliver  a 
water  innocent  of  guile.  The  only  absolutely  safe 
rule  is — beware  of  the  dog! 

But  the  dog,  in  this  case,  has  no  business  to 
be.  The  system,  if  it  can  be  called  a  system,  of 
the  leaching-vault  and  the  shallow  well  is  simply 
an  abomination — a  relic  of  barbarism.  A  coun- 
try-house ought  to  have  a  water-supply  the  same 
as  a  city  house,  the  water  to  be  taken  from  a 
spring  or  a  driven  well  and  pumped  by  a  wind- 
mill into  a  reservoir  whence  it  is  distributed  to 
the  house.  Then  the  house  should  have  a 
proper  drainage  system  and  the  sewage  be  cared 
for  by  the  system  of  surface-irrigation,  all  as 
described  in  the  chapter  on  the  disposing  of 
waste. 

Unhappy  seekers  after  country  board  should 
have  a  care  as  to  the  water-supply  of  the  house 
in  which  they  think  to  domicile  selves  and  dear 
ones  for  the  summer.  When,  in  the  weary 
rounds  of  the  hunt,  mother  goes  upstairs  to 
inspect  bedchambers,  let  father,  always,  slip 
around  to  the  rear  and  note  with  critical  eye 
the  relations  of  pump  or  well  to  outhouse  and 
stable.  Let  him  also,  quite  casually,  ask  of  any 
farm-hand  who  may  chance  to  be  about,  as  to 
possible  cases  of  sickness,  recently,  in  the  house 
or  neighborhood.  Then  when  comes  the  family 
council  around  the  corner,  let  any  insanitation 
discovered  outweigh  tenfold  all  considerations  of 


Drinking  123 

fresh  eggs  or  airy  rooms,  or  even  of  vine-clad 
verandas  and  views ! 


In  the  matter  of  the  purification  of  water  for 
drinking  there  is  a  vast  amount  of  misunder- 
standing and  delusion.  First,  as  to  nature's 
operations : 

By  standing  in  a  properly  constructed  reser- 
voir, an  infected  water  tends  to  purify  itself. 
The  adventitious  germs  settle,  and,  conditions  not 
being  favorable  for  their  development,  in  due 
time  they  die.  Accordingly,  contrary  to  popu- 
lar notion,  the  holding  of  water  in  storage  is  a 
safeguard,  if,  to  say  it  again,  the  reservoir  is  a 
proper  one.  By  the  very  same  token,  and  again 
contrary  to  popular  understanding,  aeration 
in  a  running  stream,  while  it  rapidly  causes 
sewage  to  disintegrate  and  disappear,  does  not 
kill  disease-germs.  Such  germs  have  been  dem- 
onstrated to  retain  their  deadly  activity  after 
a  voyage  of  many  miles  down  a  navigable 
river. 

For  a  third  time  contrary  to  usual  belief, 
freezing  does  not  purify  absolutely,  although  it 
comes  very  near  so  doing.  The  freezing  tem- 
perature does  not  kill  disease-germs,  for  the  ty- 
phoid germ  has  been  known  to  survive  a  three- 
months'  imprisonment  in  ice,  and  even  the  fright- 
ful cold  of  liquid  air  is  not  certain  death  to  these 
hardy  organisms.  Purification  by  freezing  is  not 
at  all  by  cold,  but  by  the  mechanical  operation 


124  Drinking 

of  crystallization,  whereby  all  minute,  particulate 
things  in  suspension  in  the  water,  be  they  bac- 
teria or  bits  of  twig,  are  forced  outward  by  the 
coalescence  of  the  forming  crystals.  Any  one  may 
notice  how  clear  is  a  lump  of  evenly-frozen  ice, 
and  how  dirty  may  be  a  mass  where  the  crystal- 
lization has  been  disturbed.  Could  freezing  take 
place  always  under  ideal  conditions,  doubtless  the 
mechanical  purification  would  be  quite  perfect, 
but  practically  such  is  rarely  the  case,  so  that 
from  five  to  ten  per  cent  of  a  bacterial  impreg- 
nation may  remain  in  the  ice  when  the  con- 
taminated water  freezes,  and  remain  in  full  patho- 
genic potency.  Nothing  is  more  deliciously  ab- 
surd than  the  home  high  science  that  carefully 
provides  a  boiled  or  costly  bottled  water  for 
drinking  and  then  dumps  into  the  pitcher  a 
frozen  mass  of  dirty  pond-water,  derived  from 
heaven  knows  where!  So-called  artificial  ice, 
honestly  manufactured  from  distilled  water,  is, 
of  course,  entirely  safe,  but  equally  so,  and  also 
far  more  wholesome  as  to  temperature,  is  water 
cooled  by  putting  the  pitcher  on  the  ice  instead 
of  the  ice  into  the  pitcher. 

Even  rain-water  may  be  impure.  True  that 
there  is  no  typhoid  or  diphtheritic  infection  in 
the  blue  empyrean  or  in  the  clouds  that  roll 
thereunder,  but  there  may  be  germs  on  roof  or 
in  gutter,  in  barrel  or  cistern,  so  that  the  rain- 
water which,  falling,  was  pure,  has,  fallen,  be- 
come contaminated. 


Drinking  125 

Of  man's  methods  of  purification  there  are  two 
and  only  two  that  are  absolutely  reliable  under 
all  circumstances  and  at  all  hands.  Whatever 
may  be  the  case  on  other  planets,  certain  it  is 
that  on  earth,  under  the  atmospheric  pressures 
prevailing  in  habitable  parts,  nothing  can  be 
boiled  and  live — boiled,  that  is,  in  water  and  for 
ten  minutes.  Boiled  water,  then,  is  safe  water, 
although,  unhappily,  it  is  also  insipid.  Subse- 
quent artificial  aeration,  however,  will  remove  the 
objectionable  flatness.  Simple  shaking  with  air 
in  a  partly  filled  bottle  is  a  fairly  efficient  means 
of  restoring  sparkle. 

Distillation,  in  its  effects,  much  resembles  boil- 
ing. It  produces  a  water  absolutely  free  from 
possibility  of  infection,  but  one  that  is  flat  and 
insipid.  And  distillation  goes  a  step  farther  than 
boiling.  For  it  leaves  behind  not  only  the 
natural  air  of  the  water,  and  all  impurities,  but 
also  the  normal  mineral  impregnation,  whatever 
it  be.  Distilled  water  is  water  absolute:  such 
a  water  as  nature  does  not  offer,  even  in  rain- 
water. Because  of  this  fact  there  have  been 
made  statements  to  the  effect  that  distilled  water 
for  drinking  is  unwholesome,  and  even  danger- 
ous to  health.  Common  sense  certainly  cannot 
endorse  any  such  scare,  and  maritime  experience 
quite  effectually  overthrows  it.  The  vessels  of 
the  United  States  navy  use  distilled  water  almost 
altogether  and  with  wholly  satisfactory  results, 
The  real  objections  to  distilled  water  are  the 


1 26  Drinking 

expense  and  the  insipidity.  The  first  item  may 
be  serious ;  the  second  can  be  overcome  by  aera- 
tion. 

Passing  to  imperfect  methods,  filtration  does 
not  wholly  deserve  the  confidence  so  commonly 
bestowed  upon  it.  But  there  are  filters  and 
filters.  It  is  possible  to  devise  and  maintain  a 
filtration-plant  on  a  large  scale  for  the  whole 
water-supply  of  a  city,  which  shall  be  very  fairly 
efficient  indeed,  and  excellent  results  have  fol- 
lowed such  installation  in  many  cases.  It  is, 
however,  too  much  to  expect  that  such  filtration 
will  sterilize  absolutely  the  water  passing  through 
the  plant.  Household  filters  are  only  too  often 
either  faulty  in  principle  or  the  victims  of  care- 
lessness or  neglect,  whereby  they  become  posi- 
tively worse  than  useless — become  actually  breed- 
ing-grounds for  micro-organisms.  Whoso  sets  up 
a  household  filter  should  instal  it  with  the  pomp 
and  ceremony  due  to  a  Lar  familiaris,  and  as  a 
veritable  Lar  the  filter  ever  should  be  regarded — 
,a  thing  to  be  worshipped  and  tended  with  the 
scrupulous  care  of  devotion. 

As  effective  a  household  filter  as  any,  and  one 
whose  care  is  very  simple,  is  the  so-called  "Pas- 
teur-Chamberland "  filter.  In  this  filter,  by  the 
pressure  of  the  water-main,  the  water  is  forced 
through  the  pores  of  smooth  porcelain.  An  elon- 
gated tube  of  porcelain,  closed  at  the  bottom,  is 
set  in  a  jacket  connected  with  the  water-pipe. 
A  rubber  cap  closes  the  jacket  above,  so  that 


Drinking  1 27 

the  pressure  of  the  main  drives  the  water  through 
the  substance  of  the  tube  from  without  inwards, 
whence  it  is  delivered  through  a  nipple  in  the 
rubber  cap  into  an  overhead  reservoir.  From 
this  chamber  it  is  drawn  for  use  from  a  faucet. 
The  nitration  in  this  case  is  absolute,  as  has 
been  shown  by  many  tests,  and  as  the  writer 
proved  to  his  own  satisfaction  many  years  ago 
when  making  some  experimental  investigations 
into  diphtheria.  Taking  an  infusion  of  diphthe- 
ritic membrane  proved  by  inoculation  upon  an 
animal  to  be  of  deadly  virulence,  he  drew  it  by 
means  of  an  air-pump  through  the  substance  of 
an  earthenware  crucible.  The  filtrate  so  ob- 
tained was  a  clear,  odorless  fluid  in  which  the 
highest  powers  of  the  microscope  failed  to  reveal 
even  the  most  infinitesimal  speck  in  the  way  of  a 
bacterium.  And  tested  by  inoculation,  this  fluid 
proved  to  be  as  innocuous  as  so  much  distilled 
water. 

But  though  porcelain  is  thus  proved  to  offer 
an  impenetrable  bar  to  the  passage  of  bacteria, 
bacteria  will  appear  readily  enough  upon  the 
inner  surface  of  a  Pasteur  tube  that  does  not 
receive  proper  care !  The  seeming  paradox  is  ex- 
plained in  a  word:  While  germs  cannot  pass 
through  porcelain,  they  can  breed  through  it. 
Through  the  microscopic  pores  equally  microscopic 
chains  of  industriously  multiplying  organisms  will 
grow,  until  in  from  five  to  twenty  days,  according 
to  temperature,  a  parent  germ  arrested  on  the 


128  Drinking 

outer  surface  of  the  smooth  china  wall  will  deliver 
a  great-great-great  -to-the-wth-power-grandchild 
on  the  inner  surface,  very  much  alive,  fully 
equipped  with  £he  family  ptomain  and  ready  for 
business!  It  is,  therefore,  an  absolutely  indis- 
pensable feature  of  the  use  of  a  Pasteur-Chamber- 
land  filter  that,  at  least  once  a  week,  the  candle, 
as  the  tube  is  called,  and  the  rubber  cap  be 
removed,  brushed  clean  from  adhering  slime,  and 
the  candle  boiled  for  half  an  hour,  to  kill  all 
possible  broods  of  germs  within  the  pores  of  the 
porcelain.  Furthermore,  this  lararium  should 
carefully  be  inspected  from  time  to  time  by  the 
keen  eye  of  the  devotee,  to  see  that  the  rubber 
cap  is  pressed  tightly  home  and  that  the  candle 
be  not,  perchance,  cracked.  A  loose  cap  or  a 
cracked  tube  will  deliver  a  water  that  simply  is 
not  filtered  at  all. 

Purification  of  an  infected  water-supply  by 
chemical  disinfection  should  not  be  undertaken 
in  domestic  economy.  It  is  true  that  the  De- 
partment of  Agriculture  of  the  U.  S.  Govern- 
ment has  announced  *  remarkable  results  with 
cupric  sulphate  (blue  vitriol)  in  harmless  dose, 
not  only  in  ridding  reservoirs  of  offensive  algae, 
but  also  of  sterilizing  water  infected  with  the 
germs  of  typhoid  fever  or  of  cholera;  but  the 
powerful  agent  employed  should  be  used  only 
by  an  expert.  An  amateur  attempt  to  disinfect 

*  Bulletin  No.  64,  Bureau  of  Plant  industry. 


Drinking  129 

a  well  by  copper  sulphate  might  result  in  dis- 
astrous failure  from  an  insufficiency,  or  in  copper- 
poisoning  from  an  excess  of  the  chemical.  No 
other  disinfectant  gives  even  promise  of  efficiency 
in  a  dosage  that  would  leave  the  water  safe  and 
fit  to  drink. 

Lastly,  among  methods  for  purifying  water, 
must  be  mentioned,  and  with  a  smile,  the  popu- 
lar scheme  of  adding  a  little  whiskey  or  other 
liquor  to  a  tumblerful  of  suspected  water.  If  it 
were  possible  to  exorcise  one  evil  spirit  by  means 
of  another,  the  procedure  might  have  reason, 
but  otherwise — mummery! 


CHAPTER  IV 
DRUGGING  FOR  DELECTATION 

Und  das  hat  mit  ihrem  Sin  gen 
Die  Lorelei  gethan 

— HEINE 

ACTION  and  reaction  are  equal  and  opposite. 
This  truism  of  physics  holds  good  also  in  physiol- 
ogy. Enjoy  overnight  some  delectable  drug- 
derangement  of  nerves,  and  pay  for  it  in  the 
morning  by  a  wholly  non-delectable  counter- 
disturbance.  Make  a  practice  of  drug-addiction 
and  mark  insulted  nature's  struggle  to  adapt  her 
workings  to  the  new,  artificial  conditions.  True 
that  here,  as  always,  nature's  powers  of  adjust- 
ment are  marvellous,  but  a  struggle  is  a  struggle 
still,  and  fatigue  comes  faster  to  him  who  bears 
a  handicap  than  to  him  who  rides  free. 

The  drugs  more  or  less  commonly  used  by 
man  for  neurotic  delectation,  alcohol,  tobacco, 
tea,  coffee,  hemp,  morphine,  cocaine,  and,  excep- 
tionally, ether  and  chloroform,  differ  enormously 
in  their  action  both  in  kind  and  in  degree  of 
potency.  It  is  hard  to  compare  things  so  dis- 
similar, but  so  far  as  comparison  is  possible, 

130 


Drugging  for  Delectation          131 

cocaine  would  seem  to  be  the  most  noxious  in 
the  long  run,  with  morphine  for  a  close  second, 
while  tea  and  coffee  are  distinctly  the  least  dis- 
turbing, coffee  less  than  tea.  Indeed,  so  many 
thousands  of  the  human  race  take  these  infusions 
habitually  without  either  obvious  derangement 
or  tendency  to  increase  the  dose,  that  it  seems 
almost  cruel — especially  for  an  old  campaigner — 
to  include  "the  cup  that  cheers  but  not  in- 
ebriates" in  the  category  of  neurotic  drugs  that 
can  make  for  mischief.  But  tea  and  coffee  de- 
range if  taken  to  excess,  and  with  many  stomachs 
and  nervous  systems  they,  one  or  both,  utterly 
disagree. 

In  a  broad  way,  neurotic  drugs  are  alike  in 
this,  that  they  affect,  each  after  its  own  fashion, 
some  balance  of  play  of  that  marvel  of  delicacy 
and  complexity,  the  nervous  system  of  the  mam- 
malian animal.  The  system,  then,  must  estab- 
lish "tolerance"  of  the  drug,  meaning  that  the 
affected  nerve-centres  must  make  a  new  adjust- 
ment of  relations  to  meet  the  new  order  of  stimu- 
lation or  depression.  Such  adjustment  is  never 
perfect — cannot  be.  Unfortunately  it  is  the 
more  immediately  distressing  effects  of  the  drug 
that  are  "tolerated",  so  that  the  deluded  habitu6 
sails  on  his  course  complacently,  considering  that 
his  system  has  now  quite  "got  used  to"  -his  pet 
indulgence.  Thus  after  a  little  the  liquor  no 
longer  makes  light-headed,  the  cigar  does  not 
sicken,  the  tea  does  not  make  tremble,  nor  the 


132          Drugging  for  Delectation 

morphine  stupefy.  But  when  once  tolerance  is 
established  it  must  be  catered  to  else  distress 
comes.  That  means  that  the  drug-habit  once 
set  up  must  be  maintained — the  toper  must  have 
his  toddy,  the  smoker  his  cigarette,  the  tea-sipper 
her  cup,  and  the  "dope-fiend"  his  deadly  needle. 
The  die  is  cast,  the  doom  is  passed,  the  shackles 
are  welded,  and  the  slavery  is  complete.  And 
with  regular  indulgence,  except  perhaps  with 
coffee,  the  tendency  is  ever  downward  to  a  deeper 
and  deeper  immersion.  The  original  dosage  now 
falls  short  of  the  original  effect,  so  that  a  little 
more  and  a  little  more  again  is  the  call.  Meantime 
the  steady  impregnation  of  the  system  with  a  poi- 
son slowly  develops  derangements  and  even  or- 
ganic degenerations  for  which  there  is  not  the 
semblance  of  a  compensating  tolerance. 

Follower  of  Bacchus,  are  you  getting  fat  and 
greasy- skinned?  Does  morning  find  your  head 
dull  and  your  stomach  rebellious?  Do  your 
hands  tremble,  does  your  heart  thump,  and  your 
breath  come  short?  Do  beads  of  sweat  crown 
your  brow  on  the  least  exertion?  And  as  the 
years  roll  on,  do  purple  broken  veins  peep  out 
on  nose,  cheeks  and  chin,  while  under  eyes  and 
over  ankles  comes  a  doughy  puffiness?  Prome- 
theus played  with  fire  and  angry  Zeus  sent  an 
eagle  to  devour  his  liver  by  day,  miraculously 
renewing  the  lost  part  by  night.  Whoso  plays 
with  fire-water,  let  him  beware  the  swoop  of  the 
vulture  cirrhosis,  that  relaxes  not  his  grip  by 


Drugging  for  Delectation          133 

night  or  day  when  once  the  cruel  claws  are  fixed! 
Cigarette-fiend,  do  your  thoughts  scatter?  Are 
you  nervous,  jerky,  and  depressed?  Does  your 
heart  flutter,  your  appetite  fail,  your  throat  be 
dry,  and  your  tongue  be  foul?  Slave  to  the  cup 
and  saucer,  is  there  a  stitch  in  your  side,  and 
are  you  wakeful  and  twitchy,  flatulent  and  dys- 
peptic? And  you,  pitiable  victim  of  the  hollow 
needle,  are  you  drying  up,  body,  mind,  and  soul, 
and  are  you  lost  to  friendship,  to  love,  to  faith, 
and  to  honor? 

Und  das  hat  mit  ihrem  Singen 
Die  Lorelei  gethan ! 

This  does  not  mean  anathema  maranatha  upon 
even  an  occasional  indulgence.  The  talk  is  of 
hygiene,  not  of  morals,  and  an  odd  cigar  or  glass 
of  beer,  or  even  a  Saturday  night  "  Scotch"  at  the 
club  for  good  fellowship's  sake,  must,  in  the 
candor  of  common  sense  and  common  experience, 
be  held  to  be  harmless.  It  is  habit  that  does  the 
mischief,  for  the  rolling  stone  will  gather  way 
as  it  goes  down-hill,  and  the  longer  the  hill  the 
louder  the  crash  at  the  bottom.  * 

In  his  time,  this  writer,  after  the  common 
fashion  of  men  of  city  birth  and  breeding,  has 
been  accustomed  to  his  coffee  twice  a  day,  his 
wine  once,  and  his  old  army  pipe  passim.  But 
one  after  the  other  he  has  abandoned  all  three 
of  the  luxuries  as  being  utterly  unnecessary  for 
health,  happiness,  or  even  comfort,  and  now  he 


134          Drugging  for  Delectation 

can  only  wonder  why  folk  go  to  the  trouble, 
the  expense,  and  the  danger  of  the  delectation. 

Let  the  drug-habitue  who  may  long  to  be  "up 
from  slavery"  take  heart  and  strike  out  for  free- 
dom, and  freedom  easily  is  his, — easily  unless 
he  be  a  victim  to  a  narcotic  alkaloid,  or  be  one 
of  those  other  unfortunates  in  whom  a  passion 
for  liquor  is  a  disease.  To  such,  though  freedom 
is  attainable,  the  road  lies  through  red-hot  thorns 
and  over  burning  sands — is,  indeed,  so  hard,  so 
hot,  and  so  long  that  expert  help  is  needed  for 
the  passage.  But  for  an  ordinary  wine-bibber, 
or  smoker,  or  tea-  or  coffee-drinker,  the  pull  out 
from  the  habit  is  far  less  difficult  than  commonly 
is  imagined,  and  readily  can  be  accomplished 
through  simple  force  of  will  by  any  one  pos- 
sessed of  a  back-bone  worthy  of  the  name  and 
of  an  honest  determination  to  attain  the  end. 
The  best  way  is  to  quit  wholly  and  at  once.  If 
it  be  wine,  tea,  or  coffee  that  is  the  slavemas- 
ter,  the  struggle  amounts  to  little  more  than  a 
passing  discomfort.  If  tobacco,  there  will  prob- 
ably be  more  of  a  wrench,  for  the  reason  that  in 
tobacco-addiction  the  impregnation  of  the  system 
is  apt  to  be  more  or  less  constant  throughout 
waking  hours.  The  first  day  the  cigar  will  be 
missed  badly,  the  second  day  savagely,  but 
thereafter,  with  diminishing  intensity,  the  desire 
slackens,  until  by  the  seventh  day  the  quondam 
smoker  wonders  how  he  ever  came  to  put  the 
thing  between  his  teeth,  and  by  the  fourteenth 


Drugging  for  Delectation  135 

he  resents  actively  an  impudent  puffing  into  his 
face  of  choking  fumes  by  some  cub  whose  un- 
mannerly mouth  respects  neither  time,  place,  nor 
person! 

The  special  points  of  hygienic  interest  in  con- 
nection with  the  individual  drugs  of  delectation 
are  as  follows : 

Alcohol,  in  its  action  upon  the  animal  econ- 
omy, reminds  of  the  meddlesome  busybody  char- 
acterized by  an  exasperated  victim  as  being  more 
kinds  of  a  blanked  fool  than  any  fool  he  ever 
met !  For  alcohol  can  set  on  foot  and  keep  going 
all  at  one  and  the  very  same  time  a  whole  series 
of  different  and  even  opposite  commotions — com- 
motions that,  furthermore,  are  modified  most 
extraordinarily  by  conditions.  What  a  small 
dose  does,  a  large  one  undoes;  what  a  weak  dose 
sets  up,  a  strong  one  upsets;  and  what  the  start 
begins,  the  finish  finishes!  In  its  action  as  a 
neurotic,  therefore,  the  drug  does  not  belong  to 
any  one  class,  but  to  all  at  once.  It  stimulates, 
but  also  it  paralyzes;  it  quickens/  but  also  re- 
tards; enhances  and  at  the  same  time  enfeebles. 
In  short,  alcohol  is  more  kinds  of  a  neurotic  than 
any  neurotic  that  ever  led  a  deluded  nerve-cell 
a  wild  dance  on  a  false  promise  of  innocent 
delectation ! 

In  the  digestive  tract,  alcohol  in  small  and 
properly  dilute  dose  promotes  the  flow  of  saliva, 
quickens  very  remarkably  the  digestive  move- 


136          Drugging  for  Delectation 

ments  of  the  stomach  and  equally  vigorously 
stimulates  secretion  of  the  gastric  juice.  But  in 
strong  dose  these  effects  of  local  irritation  are 
reversed.  The  chemical  processes  of  digestion  are 
retarded  and  even  arrested,  and,  if  the  strong 
dosing  be  habitual,  there  develop  chronic  pharyn- 
gitis and  gastritis. 

Alcohol  is  readily  absorbed,  undergoing  no 
digestive  change.  In  the  economy  at  large,  its 
influence  falls  especially  upon  the  delicate  nerv- 
ous system,  whose  normal  exquisite  balance  is 
rudely  upset.  The  heart  is  driven  to  beat  harder 
and  faster,  while  at  the  same  time  proper 
nervous  control  over  the  circulatory  system  is 
weakened,  so  that  the  surface  capillaries  dilate 
unduly  under  the  pressure  of  the  blood,  and  the 
sweat-glands  open  and  pour  forth  their  secretion. 
Weakened  also  is  the  subtle  influence  that  regu- 
lates the  evolution  of  heat  within  the  system,  so 
that  the  body-temperature  tends  to  fall.  The 
functions  of  the  great  nerve-centres  are  markedly 
disturbed.  In  the  brain  a  double  and  opposite 
effect  is  produced;  there  is  excitement  of  emo- 
tions, but  simultaneous  progressive  paralysis  of 
the  centres  where  reside  the  intellectual  faculties, 
the  perceptions,  and  muscular  guidance  and  con- 
trol. If  the  dose  be  excessive,  the  paralytic  in- 
fluence spreads  over  all;  even  consciousness  and 
heart  and  lung  automatism  fail,  and  coma  and 
death  close  the  scene. 

The  final  fate  of  ingested  alcohol  is  what  might 


Drugging  for  Delectation          137 

be  expected  of  a  stuff  of  its  kind.  Alcohol  is  a 
non-nitrogenous,  carbonaceous  principle,  closely 
allied  to  sugar  in  its  chemical  constitution.  Sugar, 
indeed,  is  technically  itself  an  alcohol.  So  what 
happens  to  alcohol  is  precisely  what  happens  to 
sugar :  it  is  consumed  by  oxidation  in  the  furnace- 
fires  of  the  animal  economy,  with,  of  course,  the 
inevitable  result  of  the  liberation  of  kinetic  energy 
available  for  dynamic  purpose.  In  moderate 
dosage  not  more  than  one  or  two  per  cent  of  cir- 
culating alcohol  escapes  oxidation,  although  in 
intoxicating  doses  so  much  as  ten  per  cent  may 
slip  away  unchanged. 

Three  noticeable  effects  of  alcohol  that  seem 
primary  are  really  secondary  only  and  are  quite 
deceptive.  First  of  these  is  the  restoration  of 
an  exhausted  brain  to  something  like  normal 
working  power.  This  well-known  effect  is  not 
due  to  any  direct  stimulus  of  the  intellectual 
centres,  but  simply  follows  as  a  secondary  con- 
sequence, on  the  one  hand,  of  a  temporarily  im- 
proved blood-supply  and,  on  the  other,  of  an 
abrogation  of  the  irritation  and  'distraction  of 
fatigue.  If  alcohol  had  the  faculty  of  enhancing 
the  intellectual  powers,  its  action  should  be  a 
benefit  to  those  who  must  battle  with  their 
brains.  A  military  general,  then,  or  a  court- 
room counsellor,  or  a  debater,  or  even  the  driver 
of  a  fast  "limited"  express  should  be  the  better 
equipped  for  the  task  in  hand  by  a  glass  of 
liquor.  But  every  experience  shows  the  reverse 


138          Drugging  for  Delectation 

to  be  the  case.  If,  in  war,  the  Lord  is  on  the 
side  of  the  dryest  powder  and  the  strongest  bat- 
talions, so  also  and  most  distinctly  is  he  on  the 
side  of  the  cold-water  commander.  Liquor  never 
yet  won  an  issue,  whether  in  war  or  in  law,  in 
logic  or  in  love;  and  who  would  trust  himself 
to  a  train  whose  engineer  might  be  seen  to  board 
his  locomotive  straight  from  out  a  bar-room? 

The  simple  fact  is  that  when  the  brain  is  well 
nourished  and  the  mind  neither  worried  nor 
overworked  the  mind  is  already  at  its  best. 
When  in  such  prime  trim,  then,  alcohol  only 
impedes  and  perverts.  But  if  the  brain  be  ex- 
hausted from  overwork,  agitation,  or  lack  of 
sleep,  then  an  alcohol-irritated  heart  will,  for  the 
moment,  the  better  nourish  it,  while  an  alcohol- 
paralysis  of  the  sense  of  fatigue  and  distraction 
will  clear  the  mental  path  of  burs  and  brambles. 
By  such  means,  then,  enfeebled  mental  aptitude 
will  provisionally  be  restored  to  the  normal  by 
alcohol-infmence,  but  wholly  in  a  roundabout 
way.  This  point  should  thoroughly  be  under- 
stood in  order  that  an  action,  really  useful  in 
appropriate  circumstances,  be  not  misapplied. 

The  second  of  the  secondary  effects  is  one 
equally  well-known  and  obvious  and  also  one 
equally  misunderstood.  It  is  the  comforting  sense 
of  warmth  that  follows  an  alcoholic  draught,  espe- 
cially if  the  subject  be  chilled  at  the  time.  This 
sensation  is  sensation  only  and  does  not  express 
at  all  actual  conditions  as  to  body-temperature. 


Drugging  for  Delectation          139 

Alcohol  retards  chemico-vital  action  and  there- 
fore does  not  elevate,  but  on  the  contrary  actu- 
ally lowers  the  heat  of  the  body.  The  sensation 
of  warmth  comes  about  in  this  way:  Alcohol 
paralyzes  the  skin-capillaries  at  the  same  time 
that  it  stimulates  the  heart.  Consequently,  for 
a  double  reason,  there  is  a  delightful  outward 
rush  of  hot  blood  from  the  interior  to  the  chilled 
skin,  whence  the  blood  had  been  driven  by  the 
cold.  So,  since  the  sensation  of  heat  resides  in 
the  skin-nerves,  the  subject  feels  wonderfully 
warmed.  What  has  happened,  though,  has  simply 
been  a  warming  of  the  skin  at  the  expense  of  the 
spine,  while  at  the  same  time  the  furnace-fire 
itself  is  undergoing  a  damping.  The  case  is 
analogous  to  the  taking  of  coals  from  a  grate  to 
spread  upon  the  window-ledge.  For  the  time 
being,  the  neighborhood  of  the  window  will  be 
warmer  than  before,  but  meantime  the  grate- 
fire  is  reduced,  and  the  general  temperature  of 
the  room  is  falling.  As  soon  as  the  coals  on  the 
window-ledge  shall  be  dead,  this  fact  will  be 
unpleasantly  manifest.  In  the  same  way,  when 
the  delusive  glow  of  warmth  from  the  alcoholic 
draught  has  passed  away,  the  subject,  if  still 
exposed  to  cold,  will  experience  a  chilliness  that 
will  penetrate  to  the  very  marrow  of  his  bones. 
This  fact  should  be  appreciated,  for  while  alcohol 
is  of  excellent  service  to  counteract  a  chilling 
after  the  subject  is  housed  in  bed  or  before  a 
fire,  it  is  positively  dangerous  during  the  expos- 


140          Drugging  for  Delectation 

ure  to  the  cold,  as  arctic  voyagers  know  well. 
Some  arctic  commanders,  indeed,  are  alleged  to 
refuse  to  have  any  liquor  aboard  ship,  so  fearful 
are  they  of  its  misuse  during  cold. 

The  third  of  the  deceptive  effects  is  a  feeling  of 
physical  well-being,  of  ability  to  do  work  with 
unusual  ease  and  efficiency.  Again  the  sensation 
is  sensation  only,  a  secondary  consequence  of  a 
primary  influence  that  is  in  the  line  of  paralysis 
and  not  stimulation.  Alcohol  paralyzes  the 
nerves  of  sense,  and  so  abrogates  all  feelings  of 
weariness  or  of  pain.  The  subject  seems  to  walk 
on  air  with  exuberant  lightness,  but  the  ability 
to  do  muscular  work  and  also  physical  endurance 
are  distinctly  and  very  decidedly  lessened  instead 
of  enhanced,  as  has  been  proved  by  critical  ex- 
perimenting over  and  over  again. 

Chronic  indulgence  in  alcohol  beyond  a  very 
narrow  limit  tends  to  derangement  of  chemical 
workings  and  to  degeneration  of  tissue,  espe- 
cially in  the  nervous  system.  Alcohol  is  quickly 
absorbed  and  easily  oxidized,  so  that  it  is  readily 
taken  for  vicarious  sacrifice  in  the  place  of  the 
slower-burning  fats  and  starches  of  the  food. 
Consequently  the  foodstuffs  are  spared,  and,  be- 
ing spared,  are  turned  into  body-fat  and  stored. 
So  it  comes  about  that  the  drinker  fattens,  often, 
indeed,  very  rapidly  and  superabundantly.  The 
poisoning  of  the  nerves  falls  markedly  on  the  so- 
called  vaso-motor  apparatus,  producing,  even  in 
mild  cases  of  regular  indulgence,  the  character- 


Drugging  for  Delectation  141 

istic  red  nose,  short  breath,  and  clammy  skin. 
So  characteristic,  indeed,  are  these  symptoms 
that  any  one  who  adds  to  tremulous  hands  a 
dusky  red  face,  a  sweating  brow,  and  a  panting, 
pursy  chest  can  pretty  safely,  in  spite  of  all 
denial,  be  set  down  as  a  drinker,  albeit  a  secret 
and  unsuspected  one. 

In  severer  grade,  come  serious  degenerations 
constituting  disease,  physical,  mental,  and  moral 
—moral,  because,  wholly  apart  from  the  degra- 
dation of  drunkenness,  there  is  a  tendency,  even 
in  such  drinkers  as  never  are  actually  intoxicated, 
to  lapse  from  the  ethical  plane  of  the  temperate. 
The  toper  is  not  truthful,  nor  does  he  adhere  to 
the  highest  sense  of  honor,  as  measured  by  the 
standard  of  self  in  ante-bottle  days. 

Without  going  into  technical  details,  the  fore- 
going picture  gives  a  fair  presentment  of  the 
various  deeds  wrought  by  alcohol  upon  the  ani- 
mal economy.  And  a  review  of  the  picture  as 
a  whole  shows  clearly  that  the  influences  of  this 
extraordinary  agent  are  so  many  and  so  opposite 
that  they  cannot  be  embraced  within  any  single 
characterization.  The  point  is  important,  for  in 
all  seriousness  it  may  be  affirmed  that  incalcu- 
lable mischief  has  been  done  the  human  race  by 
the  wretched  misnomer  of  calling  alcohol  a 
"stimulant".  The  idea  of  stimulus  is  that  of 
a  quickening  and  enhancement  of  positive  capa- 
bilities and  activities.  In  moderate  doses  alcohol 
does  truly  stimulate  the  digestive  functions,  and, 


142          Drugging  for  Delectation 

in  any  dose  at  the  outset,  it  stimulates  markedly 
the  heart  and  the  emotional  activity  of  the 
brain.  But  beyond  the  stimulation  thus  shown 
by  a  wriggling  stomach,  a  bounding  pulse,  and  a 
babbling  tongue,  the  primary  influence  of  alco- 
hol is  wholly  one  of  slowing  rather  than  of  quick- 
ening, of  enfeebling  rather  than  enhancing,  of 
dulling  rather  than  of  sharpening.  In  a  word, 
alcohol  is  far  more  of  a  paralyzant  than  a  stimu- 
lant, and  always  is  it  a  degenerant,  if  such  a  word 
may  be  allowed,  in  its  organic  influence  upon 
living  substance.  A  proper  recognition  of  the 
true  relation  of  alcohol  to  animal  life  may  be 
worth  thousands  both  in  dollars  and  in  days  to 
the  deluded  victims  who  imagine  that  in  the 
wine-closet  they  harbor  a  friend  in  need  instead 
of  " an  enemy  ...  to  steal  away  their  brains". 

Is  alcohol  a  food?  Upon  this  question  there 
has  been  written  and  spoken  a  vast  amount  of 
sentimental  nonsense.  In  the  second  chapter  it 
was  shown  how  hard  it  is  to  frame  a  comprehen- 
sive definition  of  what  constitutes  a  food,  for  the 
reason  that  the  things  we  eat  fulfill  many  and 
diverse  functions  all  of  which  are  of  importance, 
each  in  its  own  way.  The  only  answer,  there- 
fore, to  the  question,  is  alcohol  a  food,  is  the 
statement  that  undoubtedly,  and  demonstrably, 
alcohol  does  what  the  non-nitrogenous  food- 
stuffs do  and  suffers  the  same  fate.  Oxidation 
is  oxidation ;  oxidation  means  kinetic  energy,  and 
kinetic  energy  means  heat  and  power,  no  matter 


Drugging  for  Delectation  143 

what  the  fuel  that  goes  into  the  furnace-fire,  so 
long  as  it  will  burn.  And  that  alcohol  will  burn, 
every  child  knows  to  its  cost  who  once  has  fooled 
with  fingers  about  that  innocent-looking  lambent 
ghost  under  tea-kettle,  as  it  leaps  and  laps  so 
merrily ! 

In  short,  alcohol  is  just  as  much  of  a  food  as 
is  its  own  chemical  sire,  sugar.  Also  it  is  a  food 
of  the  same  kind,  but — 

— Ah,  yes,  but  \  An  ox  and  a  bull  are  brothers. 
One  is  just  as  strong  as  the  other ;  both  can  draw 
a  plough  and  thus  do  farm-work.  But  the  bull 
will  bounce  the  plough  zigzag  all  over  the  lot, 
toss  the  ploughman  and  smash  the  fence,  so  that 
the  furrow  gotten  by  his  draught  will  be  a  crazy 
one  and  dug  at  a  rueful  cost.  So  alcohol:  its 
food-function  is  yielded  in  the  burning;  but 
before  the  burning,  while  the  alcohol  is  still  alco- 
hol, careering  as  such  at  large  through  the  system, 
the  savage  stuff  is  a  veritable  wild  bull,  whose 
horns  are  in  every  tissue  and  organ  for  harm ! 

What  is  the  place  of  alcohol  in  the  dietary 
of  man?  Apart  from  therapeutic  uses,  the  die- 
tetic purpose  of  alcohol  is,  first,  to  give  a  tasty 
drink ;  secondly,  to  aid  digestion ;  and  thirdly,  to 
promote  good-fellowship — a  triple  purpose  that 
in  all  three  aspects  is  born  of  the  artificiality  of 
man's  civilized  life.  Physiologically,  alcohol  has 
no  more  rationale  in  the  drink  of  man  than  of  a 
whale.  As  to  the  purpose,  such  as  it  is,  the 
tastiness  of  a  beverage  is,  of  course,  a  matter 


144          Drugging  for  Delectation 

of  taste :  the  aiding  of  digestion  is  confronted  by 
the  inquiry,  why  eat  so  much  as  to  make  the 
stomach  ask  for  artificial  aid  in  the  discharge  of 
its  duty,  and  the  promotion  of  good-fellowship 
is  a  function  whose  call  is,  by  the  very  nature  of 
the  function,  occasional  only.  Surely,  then,  the 
answer  to  the  question  as  to  the  place  of  alcohol 
in  the  dietary  of  man  is, — no  place  at  all  for 
habitual  use,  and  on  legitimate  occasions,  always, 
of  course,  well  within  bounds. 

One  who  may  think  to  consume  alcohol  regu- 
larly will  do  well  to  ponder  very  carefully  these 
two  considerations:  first,  the  ever-present  risk 
of  an  ever-tightening  grip  of  addiction,  and, 
secondly,  the  fact,  not  appreciated  as  it  should 
be,  that  in  habitual  indulgence  mischief  may  be 
brewing  all  unseen  and  unfelt. 

Now  the  most  striking  derangement  wrought 
by  alcohol  is,  of  course,  cerebral  intoxication, 
but  a  point  of  utmost  importance  is  that  this 
same  derangement  is,  at  once,  the  very  one  that 
•varies  most  and  harms  least.  Accordingly,  the  de- 
gree to  which  alcohol  "affects"  a  given  subject 
in  the  matter  of  tipsiness  is  no  criterion  at  all 
of  the  damage  the  poison  may  be  doing  to  his 
system.  A  man  may  "carry"  his  load  well; 
may  walk  and  talk  perfectly  straight,  but  all  the 
time  the  alcohol  will  be  walking  and  talking 
through  his  tissues  at  the  same  rate  as  in  the 
case  of  a  weaker-headed  fellow  bibber  whose 
outward  aspect  may  be  shocking.  And  as  fatal 


Drugging  for  Delectation  145 

in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other  may  be  the  call 
of  a  sudden  pneumonia  or  an  apoplexy. 

Assuming,  however,  that  alcohol  is  to  be  taken 
regularly,  the  practical  point  comes  up,  where 
lies  the  line  between  temperance  and  intemper- 
ance? As  just  seen,  such  line  cannot  be  drawn 
from  outward  effects,  since  these  will  vary  with 
the  individual  according  to  idiosyncrasy  or  habit. 
The  consideration,  then,  must  be  one  of  chem- 
istry and  pathology  and  not  of  mere  symptom- 
atology. As  usual  in  such  matters,  there  is  no 
natural  dividing  line — no  "jumping-off  place", 
for  all  is  gradation.  The  line,  then,  must  be 
arbitrary,  and  no  better  one  presents  than  that 
drawn  by  the  English  authority,  the  late  Dr. 
Anstie,  who  made  a  special  study  of  the  relation 
of  alcohol  to  the  animal  economy.  This  experi- 
menter and  observer,  both,  very  shrewdly  main- 
tained that  the  line  between  temperance  and 
intemperance  should  naturally  be  considered  to 
lie  at  the  limit  beyond  which  alcohol  escapes 
from  the  body  unchanged.  In  other  words,  so 
much  alcohol  as  the  organism 'can  wholly  con- 
sume by  its  furnace-fires  may  be  taken  as  the 
measure  of  so  much  as  is  safe  (if,  indeed,  any  can 
properly  so  be  called)  for  habitual  dietetic  use. 

Now  in  divided  dosage  from  one  to  one  and  a 
half  ounces  (two  to  three  tablespoonfuls)  of 
absolute  alcohol  per  day  can  be  oxidized  entirely 
by  the  economy  of  the  average  adult.  Sucli 
amount,  then,  by  the  Anstie  standard,  will  con- 


146          Drugging  for  Delectation 

stitute  the  limit  of  a  proper  daily  alcohol  ration, 
if  a  daily  ration  is,  indeed,  to  be  allowed.  The 
extreme  of  the  limit  is  represented  by  the  follow- 
ing measures  of  the  common  alcoholic  beverages: 
ardent  spirits,  three  ounces  (six  tablespoonfuls) ; 
fortified  wines  (sherry,  madeira,  etc.),  two  sherry- 
wineglassfuls ;  light  wines  (champagne,  claret, 
hock,  etc.),  one  "pint"  bottle;  strong  malt 
liquor  (ale,  porter,  etc.),  three  tumblerfuls;  light 
beer  or  ale,  four  or  five  tumblerfuls. 

Not  only  amount,  but  also  strength,  should  be 
limited;  for,  as  already  has  been  stated,  while 
a  dilute  potion  stimulates  digestion,  a  strong  one 
impedes  it,  and,  taken  habitually,  tends  to  in- 
flame throat  and  stomach.  Accordingly  a  wise 
rule  is  to  reduce  all  alcoholic  beverages,  for  the 
drinking,  to  ten  per  cent  at  the  highest.  This  is 
about  the  strength  of  the  average  champagne, 
claret,  hock,  or  other  light  wine.  Ardent  spirits, 
then,  averaging,  as  they  do,  fifty  per  cent  of  alco- 
hol, should  be  diluted  fivefold,  and  strong  wines  of 
twenty  per  cent  strength,  such  as  sherry  or  port, 
should  either  be  diluted  twofold  or  else  simply 
be  sipped,  while  eating,  in  which  case  they 
dilute  themselves  sufficiently  as  they  mix  with 
the  stomach  contents.  Ales  and  beers  are  already 
within  the  prescribed  limit  of  strength. 

In  the  case  of  the  different  alcoholic  bever* 
ages  in  common  use,  hygienic  regard  must  be 
paid  not  only  to  alcoholic  strength,  but  also  to 
the  effects  of  other  contents  besides  the  alcohol. 


Drugging  for  Delectation  147 

Ardent  spirits  are  about  one -half  alcohol,  but 
also  contain  in  small  proportion  more  or  less  of 
other  alcohols  of  higher  boiling-point,  to  which 
collectively  the  name  fusel-oil  is  given.  In  addi- 
tion still  are  small  quantities  of  various  ethe- 
real bodies.  Now,  as  is  well  known,  a  liquor, 
when  new,  is  unfit  for  consumption,  but  ripens 
by  age,  becoming  not  only  of  mellower  flavor, 
but  losing  certain  rankly  noxious  properties  of 
the  raw  article.  It  used  to  be  supposed  that 
fusel-oil  was  responsible  for  the  harsh  effects  of 
new  liquor,  but  opposed  to  this  theory  are  the 
points,  first,  that  the  oil  is  present  in  small  pro- 
portion only;  secondly,  that  it  is  not  certain 
that  the  quantity  lessens  as  the  liquor  ages ;  and 
thirdly,  that  there  is  doubt  if  the  higher  alcohols 
be  any  more  poisonous  than  ethyl  alcohol  itself. 
However,  the  essential  fact  remains  that  ardent 
spirits  should  be  at  least  two  years  old,  and 
every  additional  year  of  age  makes  for  yet  fur- 
ther improvement  of  quality. 

Liquors  contain  little  else  of  account  besides 
alcohols  and  ethers,  being  almost  wholly  free 
from  acids  and  from  sugar.  Dietetically,  they 
represent  a  diluted  alcohol  of  special  flavor, 
whose  effects,  particularly  on  the  heart,  are  at 
once  more  kindly  and  more  lasting  than  is  the 
case  with  unmixed  alcohol.  These  modifications 
of  the  influence  are  due  to  the  ethers.  By  reason 
of  their  very  simplicity  of  composition  and  char- 
acter, spirits  often  are  better  borne  than  the 


148          Drugging  for  Delectation 

more  complex  products,  wines  and  beers.  They 
are,  however,  dangerous  by  reason  of  their  con- 
centration, for,  because  of  this  circumstance,  they 
are  likely  to  be  drunk  both  too  strong  and  in  too 
great  quantity.  Under  the  Anstie  limit,  two 
ordinary  drinks  of  liquor  represent  a  day's  allow- 
ance of  alcohol,  but  what  "rummy",  accustomed 
to  taking  his  "booze"  "neat",  ever  would  dream 
of  bidding  Bacchus  good-bye  for  the  day  over  the 
second  glass ! 

Liqueurs  are  practically  ardent  spirits  heavily 
charged  with  cane-sugar  and  containing  also 
much  solid  extract.  They  are  fit  only  to  be 
sipped  in  small  quantity  for  their  flavor.  Ab- 
sinthe is  especially  villainous  by  reason  of  con- 
taining the  volatile  oil  of  wormwood,  a  powerful 
neurotic  poison,  producing  convulsions. 

Wine  is  of  two  general  kinds.  In  the  one  the 
fermentation  is  allowed  to  exhaust  itself,  while 
in  the  other  it  is  stopped  at  a  certain  point  by 
dosage  with  alcohol.  Wines  of  the  first  kind,  or 
"natural"  wines,  typified  by  claret  and  hock, 
contain  a  comparatively  low  percentage  of  alco- 
hol— ten  per  cent,  on  the  average — and  little  or 
no  sugar.  Wines  of  the  other  sort,  "fortified" 
wines,  so-called,  typified  by  sherry,  madeira, 
and  port,  contain  twice  as  much  alcohol,  by 
reason  of  the  addition,  and  also  considerable 
of  the  original  sugar  of  the  must  which,  be- 
cause of  the  arbitrary  arrest  of  fermentation,  re- 
mains in  the  wine  unchanged.  Both  kinds  of 


Drugging  for  Delectation          149 

wine  contain  also  fruit-acids,  notably  tartaric, 
in  the  form  of  the  acid  tartrate  of  potassium 
(argol).  The  natural  wines  contain  more  of  this 
salt  than  the  fortified,  but  yet  the  latter  have 
more  than  their  flavor  would  indicate,  for  the 
reason  that  the  sugar  present  masks  the  acid 
taste.  Red  wines,  fermented  from  must  con- 
taining the  skins  and  stalks  of  the  grape,  contain 
also  tannic  acid,  becoming  thereby  astringent  in 
flavor  and  quality. 

Wines,  like  liquors,  ripen  by  age,  developing 
highly  flavored  ethers,  to  which  is  due  the  char- 
acteristic "bouquet"  of  the  wine.  Natural  wines 
ripen  much  faster  than  the  fortified,  so  that  they 
are  ready  for  consumption  at  a  much  earlier  age. 
By  the  same  token,  they  deteriorate  much  sooner, 
so  that  their  lifetime  is  limited.  In  the  case  of 
natural  wines,  furthermore,  there  is  not  enough 
alcohol  present  to  act  as  a  preservative,  so  that  a 
bottle  once  opened  must  be  finished  on  the  occa- 
sion. Otherwise  it  soon  spoils  like  so  much  milk. 

Champagne  is  a  special  form  of  wine  whose 
manufacture  involves  many  steps.  It  is  of 
about  the  alcoholic  strength  of  the  natural  wines, 
or  somewhat  stronger,  and  contains  a  variable 
amount  of  sugar,  purposely  added  according  to 
the  taste  of  the  prospective  consumer.  The  wine 
is  "sweet"  or  "dry"  according  to  the  proportion 
of  sugar.  A  dry  wine  is  the  more  reliable,  since 
sweetness  can  be  made  to  cover  a  multitude  of 
"doctoring"  sins. 


150          Drugging  for  Delectation 

Cider  and  perry  are  wines  made  by  the  fer- 
mentation of  apple  and  pear  juice,  respectively. 
They  contain  about  as  much  alcohol  as  light 
beer,  together  with  a  little  sugar  and  acid. 

Wine  is  a  very  complex  body,  and  in  the 
subtle  blending  of  its  many  ingredients  there 
appear  to  be  born  subtle  potencies  that  defy 
chemical  analysis  for  their  explanation.  In  a 
broad  way,  wine  stands  for  an  admixture  of 
diluted  alcohol,  ethers,  sugar,  and  fruit-acids. 
The  alcoholic  effects  are,  of  course,  in  proportion 
to  the  alcoholic  strength,  but  in  many  ways  these 
effects  are  modified  by  the  other  ingredients  of 
the  wine.  Quite  curiously,  wine  is  less  kindly  to 
the  chemical  processes  of  digestion  than  is  simple 
alcohol.  Through  its  acidity,  it  restrains  the 
normal  ferment  action  of  saliva  upon  starch,  and 
for  some  obscure  reason  similarly  holds  in  check 
the  chemical  activities  of  gastric  digestion  to  a 
greater  extent  than  is  attributable  to  the  action 
of  the  alcohol  alone.  The  effect  of  light  wines 
in  this  regard  is  less  than  that  of  the  strong,  and 
of  sparkling  wines  less  than  of  the  still.  In  spite 
of  this  purely  chemical  restraining  influence,  the 
resultant  effect  of  wine  upon  digestion  may  be  to 
promote  efficiency  by  means  of  a  sharpening  of 
appetite  and  stimulation  of  the  flow  of  gastric 
juice. 

The  action  of  alcohol  upon  the  heart  is  affected 
by  the  ethers  of  a  well-ripened  wine  in  the  same 
way  as  by  those  of  a  sound  liquor,  as  already  de- 


Drugging  for  Delectation  151 

scribed.  Accordingly  a  fine  old  wine  of  rich 
bouquet  is  as  valuable  medicinally  as  it  is  ex- 
pensive commercially. 

As  to  the  sugars  and  the  acids  of  wine,  neither 
of  these  constituents  is  of  much  account  intrin- 
sically, yet,  as  blended  with  the  other  constituents 
in  wine,  they  seem  to  exert  a  peculiar  influence. 
It  is  an  old  story  that,  for  a  gouty  subject,  a  sac- 
charine wine,  like  a  sherry  or  a  port,  imbibed 
overnight,  will  mean  "  a  red-hot  toe  in  the  morn- 
ing", while  yet  the  same  amount  of  alcohol  taken 
as  whiskey  and  water  will  be  without  special 
influence.  Sweet  wines,  like  sweet  anything  else, 
easily  excite  acid  dyspepsia  in  subjects  so  dis- 
posed, so  that  the  dry  wines  are  ordinarily  the 
better  borne. 

Malt  liquors  range  in  alcoholic  strength  from 
about  three  per  cent  in  the  lighter  beers  to  seven 
in  the  stronger  stouts  and  porters.  They  are  char- 
acteristically bitter  from  hops,  and  contain  also 
from  five  to  seven  per  cent  of  extract,  made  up 
mostly  of  dextrine  (a  carbohydrate),  with  a  little 
proteid,  sugar,  lactic  acid,  and  rnineral  matter. 
The  amount  of  nutriment  thus  represented  gives 
to  a  pint  of  ale  the  food-value,  in  solids,  of  a 
little  over  an  ounce  of  bread.  Malt  liquors  are 
appetizing  by  reason  of  their  bitterness,  but  easily 
develop  acidity,  disagreeing  with  many  persons 
for  this  reason.  They  tend  to  be  soporific,  the 
strong  stouts  especially  so.  Because  of  their  low 
alcoholic  strength,  they  may  be  drunk  in  com- 


152          Drugging  for  Delectation 

paratively  large  quantity  without  producing  any 
marked  alcoholic  derangement,  but  this  fact  leads 
to  their  inordinate  consumption  and  so  to  the 
deleterious  effects  of  too  much  fluid  in  the  diet- 
ary, as  described  in  the  foregoing  chapter. 

Tobacco  is  the  typical  neurotic  drug.  In  con- 
stitutional action,  although  practically  guiltless 
of  the  crime  of  alcohol  of  inducing  organic  de- 
generations, tobacco  nevertheless  readily  com- 
mits the  misdemeanor  of  deranging  nerve-func- 
tions. Experimentally  tested  upon  an  animal, 
nicotine  first  excites,  even  to  the  point  of  con- 
vulsions, and  then  paralyzes.  Upon  the  unac- 
customed human  subject,  as  in  the  case  of  a  lad 
who  rashly  essays  a  first  and  strong  cigar,  the 
derangement  is  hardly  less  severe.  The  am- 
bitious smoker  is  quickly  laid  out  limp,  with 
fluttering  heart,  trembling  limbs,  pallid,  sweating 
brow,  and  horribly  sickened  stomach.  But  habit 
soon  brings  tolerance,  and,  as  usual  with  nar- 
cotics, worse  than  tolerance — slavery.  For  just 
as  a  dog,  originally  shy  of  a  new  master,  soon 
becomes  attached  and  howls  dismally  at  parted 
company,  so  the  nerve-cells,  at  first  so  rebellious 
at  the  nicotine  intrusion,  come  speedily  to  love 
the  intruder  and  to  revolt  at  his  absence.  Once 
formed,  therefore,  the  habit  is  fixed. 

In  moderate  Indulgence,  if  tobacco  does  not 
hurt,  it  does  not  harm.  This  sounds  silly,  but 
really  sums  up  precisely  the  facts  in  the  case. 


Drugging  for  Delectation          153 

Except  as  to  local  effects,  tobacco,  considering  its 
potency,  is  singularly  free  from  radical  influence. 
Accordingly,  in  any  given  case,  if  the  tobacco 
does  not  obviously  derange,  the  smoker  need 
not  fear  that  the  weed  is  working  any  secret  mis- 
chief with  his  organs  or  tissues.  In  this  regard 
tobacco  stands  in  marked  contrast  with  alcohol. 
The  stealthy  boring  of  auger-holes  in  the  bottom 
of  a  doomed  ship,  while  yet  the  vessel  sails  fair 
upon  a  placid  sea,  is  exactly  the  piratical  crime 
only  too  often  chargeable  upon  alcohol,  but  is 
one  for  which  tobacco  cannot  honestly  be  indict- 
ed except  perhaps  on  a  single  count.  Quite 
occasionally,  among  those  who  use  the  weed  ex- 
cessively, occurs  an  impairment  of  vision,  passing 
even,  in  extreme  cases,  to  complete  blindness. 
And  such  impairment  is  due  to  organic  changes 
in  the  nerve-structures  of  the  eye.  But  in  a 
very  great  many  of  these  cases,  at  least,  there 
is  strong  reason  to  believe  that  alcohol,  secretly 
taken  along  with  the  tobacco,  is  the  real  sinner. 
It  is  perfectly  respectable,  alas!  to  smoke  to 
excess,  but  disreputable  to  "crook*the  elbow"  to 
a  corresponding  extent.  Accordingly  the  same 
subject  who  will  smilingly  admit  his  dalliance 
with  My  Lady  Nicotine  will  stoutly  deny  all 
acquaintance  with  the  tramp  Silenus. 

Locally,  tobacco  can  make  inflammatory  mis- 
chief. The  irritation  of  the  smoke  leads  very 
commonly  to  a  chronic  dry  catarrh  of  throat  and 
air-passages.  Also  it  is  possible  that  the  same 


154          Drugging  for  Delectation 

irritation,  like  other  irritations,  may  cause  cancel 
of  lip,  tongue,  or  tonsil.  But  in  such  case  it  is 
simply  a  long-continued  irritation  as  irritation 
that  makes  the  trouble,  and  not  anything  specific 
in  the  tobacco  as  tobacco.  An  old  foul  pipe, 
held  always  in  the  one  corner  of  the  mouth,  is 
much  more  likely  to  irritate  the  lip  than  is  a 
cigar  or  a  cigarette. 

Constitutionally,  tobacco-derangements  are,  as 
already  said,  ordinarily  functional  only.  Even 
when  severe,  they  disappear  quickly  and  com- 
pletely on  removal  of  the  exciting  cause.  The 
habitue,  besides  suffering  from  a  scratchy  throat, 
may  be  dyspeptic,  with  poor  appetite,  especially 
for  breakfast,  and  tongue  dry,  foul,  and  clamor- 
ous for  drink.  Also  he  may  be  nervous,  as  shown 
by  restlessness,  tremulousness,  depression,  and  de- 
ficient power  of  mental  concentration.  Worse 
yet,  he  may  acquire  the  "tobacco-heart" — a 
heart  that  is  irritable,  palpitating,  and  intermit- 
ting in  action,  and  sometimes  the  seat  of  pains, 
even,  it  may  be,  severe.  Headache,  vertigo, 
muscular  tremors,  and  wakefulness  also  are  pos- 
sibilities. The  claim  that  tobacco,  taken  during 
growing  years,  may  "stunt  the  growth"  is  not 
altogether  fanciful.  Certain  college  statistics 
point  to  an  inferiority  in  physical  development 
under  training  in  the  case  of  smokers  as  com- 
pared with  those  who  do  not  use  tobacco. 

As  is  well  known,  different  subjects  differ  enor- 
mously in  susceptibility  to  tobacco. 


Drugging  for  Delectation          155 

Delectation  by  tobacco  is  delectation  pure  and 
simple,  for  tobacco  cannot  assume  the  coquetry 
of  alcohol  of  posing  for  a  food  while  serving  as  a 
luxury.  The  pleasure  derived  from  tobacco  is  not 
easy  to  define,  largely  for  the  reason  that  the 
confirmed  smoker  lights  cigar  or  cigarette  quite 
as  much  because,  negatively,  he  is  wretched  with- 
out it,  as  because,  positively,  he  is  beatified  by 
it.  So  far  as  positive  effect  goes,  it  is  of  the 
nature  of  a  subtle  soothing — a  promotion  of  a 
feeling  of  general  peace  and  comfort,  physical 
and  mental.  It  is  very  easy  and  very  common 
to  overdo  the  delectation,  with  the  usual  result 
of  reversing  the  effect — making,  instead  of  al- 
laying, nervousness.  By  reason  of  idiosyncra- 
sies, no  general  line  can  be  drawn  between  an 
indulgence  likely  to  be  wholly  delectable  and 
one  that  may  disturb.  For  this,  every  smoker 
must  be  the  law  unto  himself.  One  who  is  con- 
scious that  he  has  passed  what  is,  for  him,  the 
dividing  line  should,  in  common  sense,  let  up, 
or  if  he  have  not  the  strength  of  mind  to  hold 
himself  in  check,  quit  the  habit  'altogether.  A 
victim  of  chronic  tobacco-poisoning  is  not  doing 
justice  to  himself  or  to  those  dependent  upon 
him  for  support,  for  in  such  poisoning  neither 
body  nor  mind  works  at  its  best. 

As  is  the  case  with  neurotics  generally,  tobacco 
is  most  baleful  when  the  impregnation  of  the 
system  is  continuous.  If  only  there  may  be  a 
let-up,  the  poisoned  economy,  refreshed  by  the 


156          Drugging  for  Delectation 

interval  of  freedom,  is  better  able  to  resist  any 
evil  effects  from  the  next  dosing.  A  given 
amount  of  smoke  consumed  all  within  a  few  hours, 
while  the  rest  of  the  day  is  wholly  smokeless, 
will  be  much  less  likely  to  develop  tobacco- 
poisoning  than  the  same  number  of  cigars  dis- 
tributed evenly  through  the  day,  whereby  the 
blood  is  never  wholly  free  from  nicotine.  In  such 
case,  moreover,  the  enjoyment  will,  by  contrast,  be 
the  keener.  Since  tobacco  belongs  with  dolce  far 
niente,  the  natural  time  for  the  dalliance  is  evening. 
The  active  principle  of  tobacco  is  the  volatile 
alkaloid,  nicotine,  which  is  present  in  the  dried 
leaf  in  the  proportion  of  from  two  to  six  per  cent. 
The  acrid,  offensive  oily  fluid  that  forms  in  old 
tobacco-pipes  is  not  nicotine,  although,  like  nico- 
tine, it  is  highly  poisonous.  In  the  dry  distilla- 
tion of  smoking,  much,  and  sometimes  all,  of  the 
nicotine  is  decomposed,  but  decomposed  simply 
into  closely  allied  principles  of  similar  and  equal 
poisonous  potency  with  nicotine  itself.  As  the 
smoke  is  drawn  through  pipe-stem,  cigar,  or 
cigarette,  the  products  of  distillation  deposit  in 
the  mouth-end  of  the  smoking  contrivance,  what- 
ever it  be.  For  this  reason,  the  last  portion  of 
a  smoking  is  stronger  than  the  first,  and  an  old, 
unclean  pipe  literally  outranks  a  new  one.  One 
who  is  sensitive  to  tobacco,  therefore,  will  do 
well  to  smoke  only  two-thirds  of  a  given  cigar, 
cigarette,  or  bowlful  of  leaf,  and,  if  he  use  a  pipe, 
to  abjure  the  old  and  the  dirty. 


Drugging  for  Delectation  i  57 

Intrinsically,  the  cigarette  gives  the  mildest 
and  the  cleanest  smoke.  There  is  no  ground  for 
the  notion  that  there  is  anything  deleterious  in 
cigarette-paper  or  that  cigarette-tobacco  is  adul- 
terated noxiously.  The  drawbacks  to  the  cigar- 
ette are  twofold:  first,  the  very  mildness  of 
the  smoke  leads  to  inhalation  of  the  fumes, 
whereby  throat  and  lungs  are  irritated  and  the 
active  principles  of  the  smoke  rush  with  full  head 
into  the  blood;  and,  secondly,  the  handiness  of 
the  little  roll  tends  to  undue  frequency  of  in- 
dulgence, with  result  of  poisoning  both  to  smoker 
and  to  the  public  atmosphere.  So  comes  it 
about  that  the  cigarette  owns  the  smoker  and  the 
smoker  owns  the  earth.  The  worst  cases -of  com*, 
bined  tobacco-poisoning  and  public  bad  manners 
are  commonly  to  be  found  among  cigarette- 
fiends. 

Other  methods  of  using  tobacco  are  by  chew- 
ing, snuffing,  and  "dipping".  The  latter  pro- 
cedure, practised  among  the  negroes  of  the  South, 
consists  in  rubbing  powdered  tobacco  upon  the 
gums.  Chewing  impregnates  the  system  more 
readily  than  smoking,  while  snuffing,  dirty  and 
deservedly  out  of  fashion  though  it  be,  is  the 
most  innocent  of  the  ways  of  using  the  weed. 

Tea  and  coffee  owe  their  delectable  influence 
to  an  alkaloid  which  is  practically  identical  in 
the  two  plants.  This  alkaloid,  caffeine,  is  quite 
a  perfect  example  of  a  pure  nerve-stimulant,  for 


158          Drugging  for  Delectation 

under  its  influence  normal  nervous  processes  are 
quickened  and  steadied  without  any  such  dis- 
tortion as  is  wrought  by  alcohol  or  tobacco.  Of 
course,  when  such  processes  are  already  in  per- 
fect trim,  stimulation  means  overexcitation  and 
defeats  its  end ;  but  if  there  be  any  flagging,  the 
stimulus  may  be  just  what  will  put  the  tired 
function  on  its  feet  again.  The  stimulation  of 
caffeine  notoriously  affects  the  cerebral  functions 
• — "cheers  but  not  inebriates",  as  is  so  truth- 
fully said.  At  the  same  time  the  play  of  heart 
and  lungs  is  quickened  and  deepened. 

As  is  the  case  with  all  true  stimulation,  over- 
doing is  undoing.  Overindulgence  in  tea  or  cof- 
fee brings  unnatural  reflex  irritability,  shown  in 
general  nervousness,  twitching  or  trembling  of 
the  muscles,  palpitation  and  intermittence  of 
the  heart,  wakefulness,  depression,  and  impaired 
power  of  mental  concentration. 

Caffeine  is  like  nicotine  in  being  innocent  of 
organic  harm.  Any  distress  from  overindulgence 
vanishes  quickly  when  the  cause  is  removed. 

As  usual  with  neurotics,  subjects  are  very  dif- 
ferently impressed  by  caffeine.  Some  can  bear 
inordinate  quantities  of  tea  or  of  coffee  without 
derangement,  while  others  are  upset  by  a  single 
cup. 

Coffee  and  tea,  both,  but  especially  green  tea, 
contain  tannic  acid.  Probably  because  of  the 
tannic  acid,  infusions  of  tea  or  of  coffee  tend  to 
retard  the  digestion  of  proteids.  In  a  healthy 


Drugging  for  Delectation  i  59 

stomach,  the  degree  of  this  effect  produced  by 
the  usual  cup  or  two  is  insignificant,  but  in  a 
weak  stomach,  or  where  the  consumption  of  the 
beverage  is  inordinate,  the  influence  may  be 
sufficient  to  produce  a  distinct  dyspepsia.  Tea, 
in  this  action,  is,  as  always,  a  worse  sinner  than 
coffee,  and  tea  also  is  especially  prone  to  develop 
flatulence.  Many  a  dyspeptic,  distressfully  flatu- 
lent and  with  shooting  pains  in  the  back,  side, 
or  region  of  the  heart,  owes  his — or  her — misery 
wholly  to  the  seductiveness  of  the  caddy. 

Cocoa  also  contains  an  alkaloid  nearly  identical 
with  caffeine,  but  in  the  beverage  prepared  from 
cocoa  the  amount  of  alkaloid  is  too  small  to 
produce  any  appreciable  effect.  A  cup  of  cocoa 
or  of  chocolate,  therefore,  represents  simply  a 
hot  drink  of  characteristic  flavor,  with  somewhat 
of  nourishment  from  the  solid  ingredients  of  the 
bean,  and,  in  the  case  of  chocolate,  from  added 
sugar  and  starch. 

Hemp,  morphine,  cocaine,  ether,  and  chloro- 
form do  not  merit  detailed  consideration  in  a 
book  on  hygiene.  Their  use,  one  and  all,  as 
drugs  of  delectation  is  to  be  condemned  uncom- 
promisingly. Such  use,  even  in  mildest  manner 
and  degree,  is  playing  with  fire  of  the  most 
dangerous  kind — an  indulgence  whose  retribution 
may  be  a  hopeless  degradation,  physical,  mental, 
and  moral.  Morphine  and  cocaine,  so  commonly 


1 60          Drugging  for  Delectation 

used  as  anodynes,  are  insidiously  dangerous, 
except  where  the  case  is  one  of  temporary  and 
severe  pain.  In  cases  of  pain  not  oversevere, 
especially  where  the  trouble  is  chronic,  the 
sufferer  had  better  far  "suffer  and  be  strong" 
than  invoke  relief  from  an  agent  that  under  the 
mask  of  benefaction  may  bring  the  doom  of  a 
life-long  blight. 


CHAPTER  V 
SEEING 

Grandmother,  what  great  big  eyes  you  have  got! 
So  much  the  better  to  see  you,  my  dear! 

— OLD  LEGEND 

IF  lamps  be  eyes,  then  are  the  words  of  the 
wolf  as  true  of  rooms  and  halls  as  of  her  own 
dreadful  head. 

The  bigger  the  lamp,  the  better  the  seeing,  for 
in  artificial  illumination,  as  in  all  else  of  man's 
artifice,  the  closer  the  imitation  of  nature's  own 
article  of  the  kind  in  question,  the  better  is  it  for 
the  imitator. 

The  illumination  under  whose  soft  rays  have 
come  into  being  the  eyes  of  diurnal  animals,  and 
for  which,  therefore,  such  eyes  are  by  nature 
adapted,  is  broad  daylight.  AnQ.  this  illumina- 
tion has  the  following  attributes :  Quantity,  abun- 
dant; quality,  diffused  and  steady;  color,  fairly 
white. 

As  to  quantity,  artificial  illumination  must  ever 
fall  far  short  of  nature's  model,  for  no  light  that 
man  has  yet  discovered  approaches  in  quantity 
the  effulgence  that  comes  to  us  from  ninety  odd 

161 


1 62  Seeing 

millions  of  miles  afar.  Yet  nature,  with  her 
usual  marvellous  power  of  adjustment,  will  adapt 
the  vision  of  her  wards  for  man's  poor  substitutes 
for  sunlight,  if  only  man  will  be  generous  in  the 
production  of  such  substitutes.  But  right  here 
is  the  commonest  fault  of  artificial  lighting- 
there  is  not  enough  of  it.  The  light  should  be 
so  abundant  that  the  eye  views  the  page  to  be 
read  or  written  at  the  same  distance  and  with 
something  of  the  same  absence  of  effort  that 
it  does  in  good  daylight. 

With  electricity  cost  is  the  only  bar  to  an 
absolute  sufficiency  of  illumination.  The  lights 
give  but  little  heat,  do  not  affect  the  quality  of 
the  air  of  the  room,  as  is  the  fault  of  all  other 
artificial  lights,  and  can  be  set  anywhere  and  in 
any  number.  The  most  beautiful  artificial  light- 
ing is  by  an  encircling  of  the  room  with  a  close- 
set  line  of  electric  bulbs  along  the  cornice,  so 
screened  that  the  eye  does  not  see  the  lights  them- 
selves. 

With  all  lights  other  than  the  electric,  the 
point  of  the  vitiation  of  the  air  of  the  room  has 
to  be  taken  into  account  in  the  practical  ques- 
tion of  sufficiency  of  illumination.  Open  com- 
bustion, like  breathing,  affects  the  air  both  by 
consuming  oxygen  and  by  giving  out  noxious 
fumes.  It  will  not  do,  then,  to  have  the  room 
so  ablaze  with  light  that  the  very  splendor  makes 
the  chamber  uninhabitable. 

Now  an  idea  of  the  voracity  of  combustion- 


Seeing  163 

lights  for  air  can  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that 
an  ordinary  gaslight  consuming  three  feet  of 
gas  per  hour  will  affect  the  atmosphere  to  the 
same  extent  as  will  three  pair  of  human  lungs. 
Where  the  combustion  is  complete,  as  is  the 
case  with  mantle  gas-lamps  and  the  acetylene 
flame,*  the  vitiation  consists  simply  in  loss  of 
oxygen  and  gain  of  water  and  carbon  dioxide, 

*  Mantle  gas-lamps,  typified  by  the  Welsbach  lamp, 
consist  of  a  Bunsen  burner  surmounted  by  a  mantle,  or 
other  device,  of  specially  prepared,  incombustible  mineral 
matter.  As  is  always  the  case  with  the  Bunsen  burner,  by 
virtue  of  its  construction ,  it  makes  thorough  combustion  of 
the  gas,  giving  a  hot  but  practically  non-luminous  flame, 
with  no  soot.  This  hot  flame  then  heats  to  incandescence 
the  mineral  matter  of  the  mantle. 

Acetylene  is  an  inflammable  gas  wholly  composed  of 
carbon  and  hydrogen.  When  burned  in  a  specially  con- 
structed burner,  combustion  is  complete,  the  only  possible 
products  being  carbon  dioxide  and  vapor  of  water.  The  flame 
gives  a  light  of  intense  brilliancy,  perfect  steadiness,  and 
comparatively  pure  whiteness. 

Acetylene  is  generated  at  once  by  the  simple  action  of 
water  on  calcium  carbide,  a  solid  product  of  the  heating 
of  powdered  coke  and  lime  in  an  electric  furnace.  The 
gas  is  of  an  acrid,  disagreeable  odor,  but  burns  without 
smell.  So  simple  is  the  means  of  its  generation  that  it 
can  be  made  and  burned  in  a  portable  lamp,  or  a  generator 
can  be  installed  in  the  cellar  of  a  house,  to  be  connected 
with  the  ordinary  gas-piping. 

Acetylene-gas  can  then  be  made  the  house-illuminant  in 
place  of  illuminating-gas,  with  only  the  requirement  of 
special  burners.  The  contrivance  makes  it  possible  to 
furnish  a  gas-lighting  for  an  isolated  country-house.  With 
properly  constructed  generators,  there  is  no  danger  of 
explosion. 


1 64  Seeing 

so  that  in  such  case  there  results  neither  odor 
nor  distress  (see  the  preceding  chapter).  But 
Tvhen  combustion  is  incomplete,  as  in  the  case 
of  oil-lamps  and  ordinary  gaslights,  Argand  or 
other,  genuinely  noxious  fumes  are  given  off, 
that  produce  bad  taste  in  the  mouth,  headache, 
and  general  oppression.  From  the  point  of  view, 
then,  of  vitiation  of  the  atmosphere,  artificial 
lights  divide  into  three  classes*  first,  all  forms  of 
electric  lights,  wholly  innocent  of  guile ;  secondly, 
mantle  lights  and  the  acetylene  flame,  produc- 
ing deterioration  of  air,  only;  and,  thirdly,  all 
other  combustion-lights,  all  of  which  more  or 
less  actively  poison  the  atmosphere. 

Sufficiency  of  illumination  for  a  limited  area, 
such  as  the  surface  of  book  or  portfolio,  can  be 
secured  with  a  comparatively  weak  light  by  the 
simple  device  of  bringing  the  light  itself  suffi- 
ciently near.  For,  with  approach  of  a  light,  the 
illumination  increases  not  in  direct  proportion 
with  the  degree  of  approach,  but  with  the  square 
of  such  degree;  that  is  to  say,  the  amount  of 
illumination  is  inversely  as  the  square  of  the 
distance  of  the  illuminating  body.  So  if  a  lamp 
at  a  given  distance  be  brought  to  stand  at  half 
that  distance  (twice  as  near),  the  amount  of 
light  received,  as  upon  the  page  of  a  book,  is 
not  twice  but  four  times  as  much  as  before 
(2X2=4);  if  brought  to  within  one-quarter  of 
the  original  distance  (four  times  as  near),  the 
illumination  is  sixteen-fold  what  it  was  (4X4  =  16). 


Seeing  1 65 

Accordingly,  a  single  student-lamp  standing  near 
a  reader's  left  elbow,  where  the  flame  is  two 
feet  from  the  book,  lights  the  page  as  much  as 
would  four  such  lamps  twice  as  far  off,  or  as 
would  the  whole  armament  of  a  sixteen-burner 
chandelier  eight  feet  away.  Unfortunately,  the 
heat  from  a  lamp  increases  with  nearness  in  the 
same  proportion  as  does  the  illumination,  a  point 
that  always  must  be  taken  into  practical  con- 
sideration. Roasting  eyes  cannot  read,  nor  baked 
brains  appreciate,  the  book,  no  matter  how  well- 
lit  the  page. 

So  far  as  concerns  the  first  characteristic  of 
quality,  namely,  diffusion,  man's  best  efforts  to 
imitate  nature  again  fall  short.  In  daylight,  with 
the  direct  rays  of  the  sun  cut  off,  as  by  a  cloud 
or  other  shade,  the  light  is  from  everywhere, 
for  it  comes,  literally,  from  the  whole  vault  of 
heaven.  The  sun  lights  the  atmosphere,  and  the 
atmosphere  in  turn  lights  the  earth.  Were  the 
atmosphere,  with  its  suspended  dust  and  vapor 
of  water,  to  disappear  off  the  face  of  nature, 
there  would  be  no  such  thing  as  daylight  as  we 
know  it.  In  direct  sunlight,  indeed,  there  would 
be  fierce  light  and  heat,  fiercer  than  anything 
we  now  know,  but  even  at  high  noon  the  shadow 
of  a  rock  would  give  the  blackness  of  night. 
The  very  sky  would  be  black,  with  the  stars 
shining  brilliantly  beside  the  clear-cut  disk  of 
the  fiery  white-glowing  sun. 

The  pleasant  soft  quality  of  diffused  daylight, 


1 66  Seeing 

then,  comes  from  this  very  fact  that  the  rays  do 
not  slant  all  in  one  direction  from  a  single  illu- 
minating point  only,  but  come,  literally,  from  all 
directions  equally — from  every  point  in  the  whole 
sunlit  dome  of  sky.  Imitation  of  nature  in  this 
regard  must,  therefore,  be  a  practical  considera- 
tion in  a  scheme  of  artificial  lighting.  A  con- 
siderable number  of  small  lights,  dispersed,  as  in 
a  chandelier  with  many  burners,  gives  a  far 
pleasanter  light  than  the  same  amount  of  illu- 
mination derived  from  a  single  intense  point  of 
luminosity.  The  extreme  unpleasantness  of  the 
arc-light,  as  the  detestable  thing  is  used  for 
street-lighting,  is  due  to  just  this  quality.  In 
lesser  degree,  the  same  kind  of  unpleasantness  is 
experienced  where  the  illumination  is  from  a 
single  strong  lamp  only,  instead  of  from  a  hang- 
ing lamp  with  three  or  four  well-separated  burners 
of  less  intensity. 

Whatever  be  the  light  and  howsoever  many 
lights  there  be,  further  diffusion  should  be  sought 
by  broad-spreading  white  or  white-lined  shades. 
Not  only  do  such  shades  capture  and  turn  down- 
ward rays  that  otherwise  would  be  lost  upward, 
thereby  increasing  the  illumination,  but  also  they 
afford  a  comparatively  wide  surface  of  lumi- 
nosity, thus  making  again  for  the  quality  of  dif- 
fusion. On  the  same  principle,  furthermore,  a 
lamp-burner  giving  a  wide  flame  is  better  than 
one  where  the  flame  is  narrow,  and  an  electric 
bulb  with  opalescent  glass  is  preferable  to  one 


Seeing  1 67 

where  the  glass  is  clear.  The  loss  of  light  in  such 
case  is  insignificant. 

Another  point  of  wise  imitation  of  nature's 
beautiful  light  is  to  have  the  whole  room  fairly 
well  illuminated,  even  if  it  be  a  study-chamber 
with  a  reader  at  a  desk  as  sole  occupant.  In  a 
previous  paragraph  it  was  shown  that  for  such 
purpose  as  desk- work  a  single  near-by  lamp  would 
give  enough  illumination,  yielding  as  much  light 
on  the  desk  as  would  a  sixteen-burner  chandelier 
hanging  some  eight  feet  away.  Here,  however, 
is  the  place  to  point  out  the  fact  that  while  the 
near-by  lamp  lights  the  desk  sufficiently,  it  does 
not  light  the  room,  whereas  the  sixteen-burner 
chandelier  would  light  everything  within  an 
eight-foot  radius  as  well  as  it  would  light  the 
desk — would,  in  short,  light  with  practical  equa- 
bility the  whole  of  a  large  room.  And  the 
point  obtains  that  it  is  distinctly  trying  to  the 
eye  to  be  in  the  midst  of  unequally-lit  areas,  as, 
for  instance,  where  a  reader  looks  up  from  his 
well-lit  page  to  face  corners  fit  for  the  abode  of 
bats  or  owls. 

Of  course  this  does  not  mean  a  sixteen-burner 
chandelier  as  a  practicality.  Such  a  monster 
would  be  intolerable  from  heat  and  vitiation  of 
the  air,  apart  from  all  consideration  of  aesthetics, 
cost,  and  weight.  What  is  meant  is  that,  no 
matter  what  the  special  desk-light,  also  there 
should  be  a  fairly  high-set  light  to  illumine  the 
room  generally,  so  that  the  eye  may  not  suffer 


1 68  Seeing 

from  distressing  contrasts.  The  writer  remem- 
bers well  how,  in  younger  days,  not  appreciating 
the  point,  he  devised,  for  microscopical  work  in 
which  he  was  then  engaged,  a  brilliant  disk  of 
light  to  fall  on  the  centre  of  the  work-table  where 
fine  needles  and  knives  were  to  play,  the  rest  of 
the  room  being  carelessly  left  wholly  unlit.  But 
after  a  very  few  evenings  of  work  under  such 
conditions  eyes  began  to  snap.  Thereupon,  real- 
izing his  mistake,  the  microscopist  simply  lit  the 
gas,  and  that  was  the  end  of  the  pain. 

Connected  with  the  present  subject  is  the  mat- 
ter of  the  position  of  the  working  light.  Nature's 
vast  lighted  dome  is,  except  early  and  late  in  the 
day,  most  luminous  overhead,  and  accordingly, 
in  imitation  again,  overhead  should  hang  or 
stand  man's  miniature  substitutes.  Yet  how 
often  is  this  most  simple  and  obvious  item  of 
propriety  disregarded!  Nothing  is  commoner 
than  lights  low  down,  where  they  shine  directly 
into  the  eye,  and,  in  desk  equipment,  set  also  in 
front,  instead  of  to  one  side  of  the  sitter,  there- 
by delivering  into  the  eye  a  very  disagreeable 
and  trying  glare  of  reflection  from  the  white 
paper  of  book  or  writing-pad. 

The  test  of  proper  position  for  a  working  light 
is  that  the  worker,  on  lifting  eyes,  but  not  head, 
should  not  be  able  to  see  the  light  itself.  The 
light,  then,  should  be  either  slightly  behind  and 
to  the  left,  so  that  the  beams  come  over  the 
left  shoulder,  or  slightly  forward,  still  to  the 


Seeing  169 

left,  but  now  so  high  up  that  in  the  position  of 
the  head  at  work  the  brows  screen  the  light  from 
the  eyes.  The  position  slightly  behind  is  the 
better,  both  intrinsically,  and  also  because  in 
such  position  the  light  can  be  closer  to  the 
worker  and  thus  be  made  to  give  more  illumina- 
tion, as  already  explained. 

In  the  matter  of  steadiness,  artificial  illumina- 
tion, for  once,  can  equal  nature's  model.  But 
again  there  is  great  difference  among  lights.  In- 
candescent electric  lights,  the  acetylene  flame,  and 
gas-lamps  with  enclosed  incandescent  mantles  are 
absolutely  steady;  oil-lamps  are  fairly  so,  while 
the  naked  gas-flame  and  the  candle  are  abomina- 
tions of  unsteadiness  through  flickering.  Neither 
of  the  last-named  lights  is  fit  for  working  pur- 
poses. 

Lastly,  in  the  matter  of  color,  artificial  lights 
differ  again.  Taking  sunlight  as  a  standard  of 
practical  whiteness,  the  arc-light  appears,  by  con- 
trast, white,  faintly  tinged  with  violet;  the 
acetylene  flame,  white  tinged  with  yellow;  the 
Welsbach  light,  greenish  white ;  and  all  other  lights 
—incandescent  electric,  illuminating-gas,  oil,  and 
candles — different  grades  of  pronounced  yellow. 

The  practical  outcome  of  all  this  analysis  is  as 
follows:  For  the  "dim  religious"  lighting  of 
churches,  Wagner  operas,  drawing-rooms,  and 
other  places  where  eyes  are  not  called  upon  for 
critical  work,  it  makes  little  difference  what,  how 
much  or  how  little,  be  the  illumination  so  long  as 


1 70  Seeing 

the  ever-important  point  be  observed  that  the 
lights  do  not  shine  directly  in  the  eyes.  Why, 
in  deliberate  disregard  of  this  point,  the  modern 
housekeeper  puts  candles  on  her  dinner-table  and 
short  lamps  on  her  parlor-stands  is  answerable 
only  by  the  usual  excuse  of  the  slave  to  fashion, 
"Others  do  and  so  we  must". 

In  a  common  sitting-room  there  should  be  a 
central  pendant  or  chandelier,  carrying  either  four 
electric  bulbs,  four  oil-burners,  three  Welsbach 
lights,  or,  if  acetylene-gas  be  installed  as  the 
house-illuminant,  two  or  three  such  burners.  If 
standing  lamps  only  are  available,  the  centre- 
table  should  have  one  very  large  and  tall  one, 
acetylene  preferred,  with  wide-flaring  shade, 
white-lined,  and  on  the  mantelpiece  should  be 
two  other,  smaller  lamps  with  translucent  white 
shades,  or  else  a  few  candles,  to  give  a  certain 
amount  of  general  illumination.  In  the  "den" 
or  study  of  a  single  desk-worker  there  should  be 
a  somewhat  low  pendant,  carrying  either  three 
electric  lights  or  oil-burners,  or  two  Welsbach 
lights  or  two  acetylene  burners.  Then  the  desk 
should  so  be  set  that  the  light  streams  over  the 
left  shoulder  of  the  desk-occupant.  If  a  stand- 
ing lamp  must  be  used,  it  should  be  one  of  fairly 
good  size,  with  broad  white-lined  shade,  and 
should  stand  (if  necessary  on  a  pile  of  books) 
so  high  that  the  flame  is  certainly  not  lower  than 
the  top  of  the  sitter's  head.  It  should  be  set  to 
the  left.  Then,  on  mantelpiece  or  top  of  book- 


Seeing  171 

stand  should  be  a  candle  or  two  or  a  small  lamp 
with  plain  white  shade  for  the  defeat  of  dark 
corners. 

Among  portable  lamps,  the  acetylene-lamp  is 
easily  king  by  reason  of  its  combining  great  in- 
tensity, perfect  steadiness  and  whiteness  of 
flame,  with  a  minimum  of  heating  and  vitiating 
of  the  air. 

As  to  the  eye  itself:  It  may  surprise  many 
and  perhaps  shock  a  few  to  learn  that,  con- 
sidered purely  as  an  optical  instrument,  the 
human  eye  is  a  pretty  poor  affair — so  poor,  in- 
deed, that  were  an  optician  to  fill  an  order  for 
spectacles  with  lenses  as  faulty  as  those  of  the 
eye,  very  quickly  would  he  find  his  goods  thrown 
out  of  window  and  himself  shown  out  of  doors ! 
Fortunately,  however,  for  suffering  humanity, 
man  can,  in  this  case,  himself  correct  the  grosser 
errors  of  nature  by  a  simple  contrivance  built 
out  of  two  pieces  of  glass,  two  strips  of  tortoise- 
shell,  and  a  metal  spring. 

Both  the  science  of  the  oculist  and  the  art  of 
the  optician  have  advanced  by  great  strides  of 
late  years,  as  the  multiplying  number  of  glass- 
windowed  faces  to  be  met  with  on  the  street 
abundantly  testifies.  And  for  the  feminine  suf- 
ferer from  ocular  defect  there  is  particularly  joy- 
ful news — nose-clips  now  are  wonderfully  im- 
proved !  No  more,  then,  need  the  boon  of 
glasses  be  refused  because  of  the  disfigurement 


1 72  Seeing 

of  spectacles,  for  hardly  does  the  nose  exist  that 
can  utterly  defy  the  art  of  the  modern  optician 
to  fit  an  eyeglass,  and  a  becoming  one  at  that, 
as  eyeglasses  are. 

Not  only  do  proper  glasses  change  poor  to 
good  sight,  but  also  they  cure  painful  vision, 
give  back  lost  use  of  weak  eyes,  and  put  to 
flight  the  multifarious  and  distressing  reflexes, 
ranging  from  sick-headaches  to  convulsions,  that 
often  accompany  that  common  but  subtle 
malady,  unconscious  eye-strain. 

The  normal  eye,  at  rest,  is  adjusted  for  dis- 
tant vision,  and  changes  its  focus  for  the  viewing 
of  near  objects  by  the  action  of  a  little  mus- 
cle in  the  eye  itself.  This  muscle,  in  contract- 
ing, increases  the  curvature  of  a  certain  elas- 
tic lens,  the  crystalline  lens,  an  all-important 
element  of  the  lenticular  system  of  the  eye. 
This  lens,  semisolid  in  childhood,  hardens  pro- 
gressively with  the  march  of  years.  Accordingly 
a  time  is  bound  to  come  when,  in  the  natural 
course  of  things,  the  little  eye-muscle  can  no 
longer  squeeze  the  lens  to  the  proper  curve  for 
the  reading  of  an  ordinary  printed  page,  held,  as 
such  page  must  be  for  the  seeing  of  its  size  of 
type,  some  thirteen  or  fourteen  inches  from  the 
eye.  The  condition  so  determined,  one  as  natu- 
ral as  the  coming  of  wrinkles  or  gray  hairs,  is 
called  presbyopia,  "old-sightedness",  and  is 
neutralized  by  the  wearing  of  convex  glasses  for 
near  vision,  in  substitution  for  the  now  impos- 


Seeing  173 

sible  increase  of  convexity  of  the  crystalline  lens. 

Eyes  may  be  optically  faulty  in  three  ways,  as 
follows:  First,  the  eyeball  may  be  too  deep. 
Consequently  the  image  of  distant  objects  comes 
to  sharp  focus  on  a  plane  short  of  that  of  the 
retina.  The  image  of  near  objects,  however, 
falling,  as  it  does,  farther  back,  may  lie  just  on 
the  retina,  the  nearness  for  such  sharp  focus 
depending  on  the  degree  of  the  overdepth  of 
the  eye.  An  overdeep  eye,  therefore,  may  give 
good  vision  for  objects  within  a  certain  range  of 
distance,  and,  at  the  limit  of  such  range,  give 
sharp  sight  without  the  need  of  any  focalizing 
effort.  But  for  objects  beyond  the  limit  of  dis- 
tance, vision  will  necessarily  be  indistinct.  This 
condition  is  myopia,  "near-sightedness",  and  is 
corrected  by  concave  glasses  for  distant  vision, 
the  concavity  neutralizing  what  is,  relatively,  an 
overconvexity  of  the  eye-system.  The  myope, 
since  he  sees  near  objects  distinctly  even  with 
the  eye  at  rest,  does  not  need  glasses  for  presby- 
opia as  does  one  of  normal  eye  Myopia  may  be 
acquired  and  progressive,  and  when  of  high  de- 
gree may  be  accompanied  with  disease  of  the  eye- 
structures,  producing  an  impairment  of  vision 
beyond  the  benefit  of  glasses.  Children  should 
not  be  permitted  to  hold  objects  too  near  the 
eye,  nor  to  read  in  dim  or  improperly  adjusted 
light,  for  fear  of  superinducing  the  condition. 

Secondly,  the  eye,  instead  of  being  too  deep, 
may  be  too  shallow.  The  image  of  distant 


1 74  Seeing 

objects  now  comes  to  focus  behind  the  retina, 
and,  of  course,  the  image  of  near  objects  falls 
farther  behind  still.  The  consequence  is  a  tend- 
ency to  indistinct  vision  for  all  distances,  worse 
for  the  near  than  for  the  far.  The  word  "tend- 
ency" is  used  advisedly,  for  the  over-shallow 
eye  holds  within  itself  a  means  more  or  less  effect- 
ive for  counteracting  the  fault.  By  action  of 
the  focalizing  muscle,  the  optical  strength  of  the 
crystalline  lens  can  be  increased,  thereby  short- 
ening the  focal  length  of  the  eye-system,  enough, 
it  may  be,  to  meet  the  requirement  of  the  too 
shallow  ball.  Such  muscular  action,  then,  the 
victim  of  the  defect  in  question  instinctively  puts 
into  operation,  and  continuously,  during  waking 
hours.  So  long  as  the  power  of  the  muscle  is 
able  to  meet  the  required  unnatural  strain,  vision 
is  good  and  the  condition  is  unrecognized.  But 
with  increase  of  years  there  comes  a  time,  sooner 
or  later  according  to  the  degree  of  the  fault, 
when  the  inevitable  hardening  of  the  crystalline 
lens  is  too  much  for  the  poor  overtaxed  muscle. 
The  muscle  either  cannot  effect  the  necessary 
adjustment,  in  which  case  vision  is  indistinct, 
especially  for  the  near,  or  can  do  so  only  by 
painful  effort,  whence  result  pain  either  in  the 
eyes,  the  brow,  or  the  back  of  the  head,  or  severe 
general  headache,  or  various  reflex  disturbances, 
it  rrtay  be  of  most  incongruous  character.  Fur- 
thermore, the  extra  strain  on  the  focalizing  muscle 
puts  an  associated  extra  strain  on  the  orbital 


Seeing  175 

muscle  that  turns  the  eye  inward,  thus  tending 
to  produce  squint.  The  condition  of  an  over- 
shallow  eyeball  is  known  as  hypermetropia,  or 
hyperopia,  "  oversight  edness"  or  "far-sighted- 
ness".  It  is  corrected,  with  heaven-descended 
relief  from  suffering  and  with  restoration  of  lost 
use  of  the  eyes,  by  convex  glasses  for  far  and 
near  vision,  both,  in  order  to  give  to  the  eye- 
system  the  shortened  focal  length  necessitated  by 
the  shallow  ball. 

Thirdly,  the  curvature  of  the  cornea,  or  "  sight " 
of  the  eye,  may  not  be  truly  spherical,  but,  like 
that  of  an  apple,  be  greater  in  one  meridian  than 
in  that  at  right  angles  thereto.  No  eye  is  abso- 
lutely free  from  this  defect,  but  ordinarily  the 
fault  is  so  slight  as  to  be  inappreciable  except  on 
critical  examination.  When  considerable,  how- 
ever, it  affects  vision  more  or  less  seriously,  lines 
lying  in  one  direction  appearing  sharp,  but  those 
at  right  angles  blurred.  Thus  in  the  case  of  a 
slatted  fence,  the  slats  may  be  seen  distinctly, 
but  the  horizontal  top  and  bottom  strips  indis- 
tinctly, or  vice  versa.  This  condition  is  astig- 
matism, and  is  corrected  by  glasses  with  cylin- 
drical instead  of  spherical  curvature,  the  set  of 
the  glasses  being  adjusted  to  the  meridian  direc- 
tion of  the  fault.  Astigmatism  is  of  different 
kinds:  one  meridian  may  be  normal  while  the 
other  is  myopic  or  hyperopic;  or  both  may  be 
abnormal,  representing  different  grades  of  my- 
opia or  of  hyperopia,  or  the  one  myopic  while 


1 76  Seeing 

the  other  is  hyperopic.  According  to  conditions, 
correcting  glasses  may  have  to  be  of  compound 
curvature,  cylindrical  on  one  surface  and  spheri- 
cal on  the  other. 

Besides  these  optical  defects  of  the  eye,  there 
may  be  faulty  action,  absolute  or  relative,  of 
the  muscles  of  the  orbit  that  move  the  eye  in 
different  directions.  Certain  conditions  of  such 
faulty  action  may  be  neutralized  by  prismatic 
glasses,  while  others  may  require  the  services  of 
the  surgeon. 

Because  of  mixed  difficulties,  a  subject  may 
need  one  strength  of  glass  for  the  near  and 
another  for  the  far.  To  dispense  with  the  nui- 
sance, in  such  case,  of  constantly  shifting  glasses, 
the  versatile  Benjamin  Franklin,  himself  a  victim 
of  the  need  in  question,  devised  the  "bifocal" 
glass,  wherein  the  upper  portion  of  the  lens 
suits  for  far  vision  and  the  lower  for  the  near. 
The  arrangement  is  natural,  since  the  require- 
ments for  near  vision  are  for  reading  or  writing, 
in  which  case  the  eyes  are  directed  downward. 
At  the  present  day  bifocal  glasses  are  in  four 
styles.  The  simplest  and  cheapest  is  the  original 
Franklin  style,  where  each  glass  consists  of  two 
half-segments  of  different  focal  length,  set  to- 
gether in  the  frame,  straight  edge  to  straight  edge. 
Such  a  glass  is  cheap  and  durable  and  permits 
of  change  of  either  segment  to  suit  changes  in  the 
eye,  but  the  scheme  necessitates  a  frame  and 
the  lower  segment  is  unnecessarily  high  and 


Seeing 

wide,  thus  encroaching  on  the  field  of  vision  that 
should  belong  to  the  upper  one,  where,  alone,  an 
extensive  field  is  wanted.  The  next  style  is  the 
commonest,  where  the  extra  power  for  near 
vision  is  obtained  by  a  small  accessory  half- 
moon  lens  cemented  to  the  lower  aspect  of  the 
main  glass.  This  arrangement  permits  of  change 
of  the  accessory  glass  to  meet  changed  ocular 
conditions,  since  the  small  "paster"  is  easily 
removed  and  another  substituted.  The  objec- 
tions to  the  style  are  that  the  double  lens  is 
somewhat  unsightly,  and  that  where  no  frame  is 
used,  as  is  now  so  largely  the  fashion,  the  cement 
is  liable  to  become  cloudy  and  to  soften,  pro- 
ducing blurring  and  possible  moving  or  detach- 
ment of  the  paster. 

In  the  third  style  of  bifocal,  the  main  lens  is 
split  into  two  thin  slices,  upon  one  of  which,  at 
the  inner  aspect,  is  hollowed  a  place  for  reception 
of  the  small  accessory  lens.  Then  the  two  slices, 
with  the  accessory  lens  sandwiched  between  them, 
are  cemented  together.  The  result  is  a  beautiful 
glass,  where  the  accessory  lens  is  wholly  invisible 
to  the  onlooker,  and  where,  also,  the  line  of  de- 
marcation between  the  two  portions  is  imper- 
ceptible to  the  wearer — a  great  advantage.  This 
style  of  glass,  however,  is  expensive,  does  not 
permit  of  change  of  the  accessory  lens,  and  also 
is  open  to  the  intrinsic  objection  to  all  cemented 
glasses,  if  no  frame  be  used,  of  "coming  undone" 
or  of  blurring. 


178  Seeing 

The  fourth  style  of  bifocal  is  the  exclusive 
manufacture  of  a  certain  optician  of  New  York. 
In  this  style  the  half-moon  of  curvature  for 
near  vision  is  ground  directly  on  the  face  of  the 
one  glass.  Instead,  therefore,  of  a  glass  made  of 
two  or  three  pieces  cemented  together,  the  glass 
is  a  single,  solid  lens,  carrying  the  two  curvatures 
in  different  portions.  The  line  of  demarcation 
shows  somewhat,  but  not  nearly  so  much  as 
in  the  case  of  pasters,  and  the  glass  is  absolutely 
free  from  all  the  annoyances  inherent  in  cemented 
glasses.  Like  the  foregoing  style,  this  glass  is 
expensive  and  also  permits  of  no  change,  but  the 
comfort  of  it  is  as  solid  as  is  the  glass  itself. 

Refractive  errors  are  so  common,  so  distress- 
ing when  not  corrected,  and  so  easily  neutralized 
by  glasses,  that  the  oculist  (not  the  optician) 
should  be  consulted  upon  any  sign  whatever  of 
either  failing  or  painful  vision.  In  the  case  of 
children,  the  eyes  should  be  examined  periodi- 
cally by  an  expert,  the  same  as  the  teeth.  In 
many  States  such  periodical  examination  is  re- 
quired by  law  in  the  case  of  pupils  of  the  public 
schools.  If  a  child  present  any  symptom  point- 
ing to  possible  ocular  defect,  then  most  particu- 
larly should  it  be  haled  to  the  oculist  at  once, 
grandmothers  and  wiseacres  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding. 

Suspicion  of  refractive  trouble  arises  when  the 
eyes  are  persistently  red  and  watery;  when  the 
chilcl  contracts  the  brows  on  reading,  or  looks 


Seeing  179 

at  the  page  aslant,  or  narrows  the  slit  between 
the  lids,  or  holds  the  book  unduly  near;  when 
it  complains  of  blurring  or  of  pain  in  the  eyes, 
the  brow,  or  the  back  of  the  head,  or  of  general 
headache,  or  even  when  it  is  stupid  over  its 
lessons  and  blunders  at  the  blackboard.  And 
suspicion  may  turn  to  conviction  if  the  youngster 
begins  to  squint,  be  it  never  so  little  or  momen- 
tarily only.  Those  who  dearly  love  to  give 
gratis  advice  on  subjects  they  know  nothing 
about  will  say  that  the  child  will  grow  out  of 
the  habit  of  squinting.  It  will  not,  but  on  the 
contrary  will  grow  into  it,  worse  and  worse. 

Adults  should  consult  an  oculist  whenever  ex- 
periencing any  trouble  whatever  with  the  eyes, 
whether  blurring  of  vision  for  the  near,  or  indis- 
tinct vision  for  the  far,  or  feeling  of  strain  or 
actual  pain  on  using  the  eyes,  be  the  pain  in  the 
eyes,  the  brow,  the  top,  or,  as  often  is  the  case, 
the  back  of  the  head.  Also,  though  they  be  not 
immediately  referable  to  any  use  of  the  eyes, 
unaccountable  nervous  derangements,  such  as  fre- 
quent and  severe  headaches  with  nausea,  should 
excite  suspicion  of  possible  refractive  trouble. 
Many  an  obscure  case  of  nervous  disorder  that 
has  for  months  or  years  resisted  the  potterings 
of  the  family  physician  has  surrendered  at  once 
to  a  pair  of  spectacles. 

The  eye,  besides  being  an  optical  instrument, 
is  an  organ  of  a  living  animal  body,  as  much  so 
as  is  the  brain,  of  which  it  is  simply  an  outlying 


1 80  Seeing 

conning-tower.  As  in  the  case  of  other  organs, 
the  condition  of  the  eye  is  subject  to  the  laws 
of  physiology  and  pathology,  and  the  condition 
as  an  organ  is  indissolubly  linked  with  the  con- 
dition as  an  optical  instrument,  and  vice  versa. 
The  optician,  educated  to  the  mechanical  art  of 
grinding  lenses,  may  know  enough  of  optics  to 
appreciate  ocular  errors  of  refraction  as  errors, 
but  the  physician  and  the  physician  alone  can 
appreciate  them  as  errors  of  an  animate  eye  and 
not  of  an  inanimate  opera-glass. 

In  the  matter  of  care  of  the  eyes,  the  keynote  is 
common  sense.  It  ought  to  be  the  height  of 
platitudinous  impudence  to  mention  that  the  eye 
is  a  delicate  organ,  a  wondrous  instrument  and 
a  priceless  boon,  but  considering  the  outrageous 
abuse  to  which  this  same  organ  and  instrument 
and  boon  is  subjected,  it  would  seem  necessary 
to  make  the  remark.  There  need  to  be  men- 
tioned but  to  be  condemned  such  practices  as 
reading  lying  supine,  in  which  case,  for  an  organ 
in  active  function,  the  blood  is  flowing  the  wrong 
way;  reading  in  a  vibrating  carriage  or  car; 
reading  through  a  veil  or  by  an  insufficient  or 
fading  light,  or  using  the  eyes  critically  in  an 
atmosphere  hot,  foul,  dusty,  or  smoke-laden, 
whether  from  chimney-flue  or  tobacco-pipe. 
Having  eyes,  it  is  well  to  keep  them.  An  arti- 
ficial tooth  looks  and  works  nearly  as  well  as 
the  original,  but  an  artificial  eye  looks  bad  and 
sees,  alas!  not  at  all. 


Seeing  1 8 1 

Great  damage  used  to  be  done  to  the  eyes  of 
children  in  schools,  but,  with  the  advance  of 
understanding  in  matters  ocular,  the  evils  for- 
merly common  are  now  rare  in  the  better  grades 
of  schools,  at  least.  The  child  should  not  sit 
directly  facing  the  light,  nor  at  a  desk  either  too 
high  or  too  low.  The  proper  reading  distance  is 
fourteen  inches  for  ordinary  type,  and  desks 
should  be  adjusted  to  correspond.  Of  course  this 
is  troublesome  with  children  of  all  sizes  and  all 
growing  all  the  time,  but  trouble,  like  other 
intimates,  should  not  be  regarded.  Because  of 
the  softness  of  the  crystalline  lens  in  childhood, 
the  child  can  easily  focalize  upon  objects  quite 
close.  Accordingly  children  tend  to  hold  the 
book  unduly  near,  or  to  double  up  over  their 
writing,  thus  bringing  the  face  within  a  few 
inches  of  the  object  viewed,  The  action  is  in- 
jurious, producing  an  improper  squeezing  of  the 
eyeball  that  tends  to  develop  near-sightedness. 
Whenever  observed,  the  fault  should  carefully 
be  corrected,  the  more  since  it  leads  to  deformity 
of  the  spine  as  well  as  of  the  organs  of  vision. 

The  light  of  a  schoolroom  should  always  care- 
fully be  made  sufficient  and  be  properly  placed, 
all  according  to  the  principles  already  set  forth. 
The  typography  of  text-books  should  be  clear 
and  black,  on  dull  paper,  and  not  be  finer  than 
what  is  known  as  "  long-primer  "  (or  "  ten-point  ") 
type  It  should  be  leaded  sufficiently  to  give  at 
least  one-tenth  of  an  inch  of  clear  space  between 


1 82  Seeing 

adjacent  lines.  The  size  of  page  should  not  be 
larger  than  an  octavo,  in  order  to  save  the  eye 
from  strain  in  making  too  wide  an  excursion 
from  side  to  side  in  reading.  Watch  should  be 
kept  for  cases  of  inflamed  or  "sore"  eyes,  since 
ophthalmia  and  granular  lids  are  contagious. 
Towels  should  not  be  used  miscellaneously. 

A  healthy  eye  needs  no  wash  other  than  the 
washing  given  to  the  face  in  ordinary  routine. 
Let  the  sponge  or  cloth  wash  the  lids,  and  the 
lids  wash  the  ball.  The  tears,  which  naturally 
bathe  the  eye,  contain  salt,  making  them  of  a 
different  specific  gravity  from  water,  so  that 
water  upon  the  eyeball  acts  as  a  foreign  fluid. 
Accordingly  the  practice  of  plunging  the  face 
into  a  basin  of  water  and  opening  the  eyes  there- 
in is  senseless.  If  the  eyes  be  inflamed,  they 
should  simply  be  washed  in  the  ordinary  way 
with  cool  or  lukewarm  water,  or  with  a  saturated 
solution  of  boric  (boracic)  acid,  filtered  to  remove 
undissolved  particles  of  the  substance.  Boric 
acid  is  not  a  sour  acid  and  dissolves  but  slightly 
in  water,  so  that  a  saturated  solution  is  not  so 
formidable  a  thing  as  it  sounds  to  be  in  the 
statement.  The  peculiar  injection  of  the  eye- 
ball that  occurs  in  iritis  (inflammation  of  the  iris) 
must  not  be  mistaken  for  that  of  a  common 
catarrh,  or  "cold"  in  the  eye.  Such  injection 
makes  a  pale  pink  zone  of  fine  texture  close 
about  the  cornea,  and  is  not  accompanied  by 
either  swelling  or  secretion.  It  is  important  not 


Seeing  183 

to  confound  the  two  conditions,  for  the  treat- 
ment in  the  respective  cases  is  utterly  different 
and  an  iritis  is  a  serious  matter,  and,  as  it  hap- 
pens, one  where  early  proper  medical  care  is  of 
vital  importance. 

Motes  or  cinders  in  the  eye  ordinarily  are 
easily  removed  if  taken  in  hand  at  once.  If  on 
moving  the  eyeball  from  side  to  side  beneath  the 
closed  lid  the  point  of  scratchiness  seems  to  go 
with  the  ball,  the  offending  mote  is  probably 
stuck  to  the  cornea ;  but  if  such  point  seems  fixed, 
then,  as  is  most  commonly  the  case,  the  little 
particle  is  lodged  upon  the  inner  surface  of  the 
upper  lid,  more  likely  than  not  just  under  the 
edge  where  a  shallow  longitudinal  groove  makes 
a  trap  for  intruders.  If  the  mote  be  upon  the 
cornea,  the  eye  should  be  kept  gently  closed, 
without  rubbing,  until  competent  aid  can  be 
found  for  the  picking  off ;  but  if  beneath  the  lid, 
the  subject  can  himself  effect  the  removal  in  the 
majority  of  cases  by  the  following  simple  pro- 
cedure :  Getting  a  hold  with  the  thumb  and  fore- 
finger upon  the  lashes  of  the  upper  lid,  pull  the 
lid  slightly  away  from  the  ball,  and  then,  draw- 
ing it  downward  over  the  edge  of  the  lower  lid, 
wipe  it  from  side  to  side  against  the  lower  lashes. 
These  lashes,  moistened  by  the  tears,  operate  as 
a  soft,  wet  brush  and  generally  remove  the 
foreign  particle  at  once,  if  the  lodgment  is  quite 
recent.  Later,  the  speck  will  become  embedded 
and  then  will  not  come  off  so  readily.  In  such 


1 84  Seeing 

case  the  lid  must  be  everted  and  the  intruder 
brought  to  light.  Let  the  subject  direct  the  eyes 
downward  and  resist  an  instinctive  tendency  to 
raise  the  brows.  Then  the  operator,  drawing 
upon  the  upper  lid  in  the  manner  just  described, 
turns  it  up  over  a  match  or  toothpick  set  lightly 
against  it  about  three-eighths  of  an  inch  above 
the  free  edge.  Then  with  the  corner  of  a  clean 
handkerchief  or  the  moistened  bulb  of  the  little 
finger  he  easily  removes  the  foreign  body.  One 
accustomed  to  this  little  operation  can  evert  by 
use  of  a  finger-end  instead  of  a  match  or  tooth- 
pick as  the  fulcrum  of  leverage,  but  the  method 
with  the  smaller  object  is  easier  and  less  likely  to 
give  pain. 


CHAPTER    VI 
HEARING 

And  silence,  like  a  poultice,  comes 
To  heal  the  blows  of  sound 

— O.  W.  HOLMES 

THE  hygiene  of  hearing  is  stated  in  a  series  of 
"don'ts". 

First,  don't  hear!  Don't  hear  any  more  din 
than  is  unavoidable !  Din  is  wearing  upon  the 
nervous  system,  even  when  the  nerves,  through 
custom,  are  unconscious  of  the  noise.  Let  there 
be  a  sudden  transition  from  noise  to  silence,  and 
there  is  felt  a  restfulness  that  by  the  very  meas- 
ure of  its  sweetness  attests  the  strain  from  which 
pounded  ear  and  brain  were  unconsciously  suffer- 
ing. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  city  din  is  a  power- 
ful ally  of  city  hurry  and  worry  in  making  for 
nervous  breakdown.  And  a  masterly  retreat 
from,  a  foe  that  cannot  be  defeated  in  battle  is 
ever  good  warfare.  Accordingly  it  is  wise  to 
recognize  city  noise  as  a  thing  seriously  to  be 
shunned  on  occasion.  In  selecting  an  office, 
where  there  is  an  elevator  to  nullify  altitude, 

one  should  be  chosen  on  an  upper  floor  rather 

185 


1 86  Hearing 

than  on  a  lower ;  home  should  be  made  on  a  quiet 
side  street  in  preference  to  a  thoroughfare,  and, 
where  choice  is  possible,  a  room  in  the  rear  of  the 
house  should  be  taken  for  bedchamber.  Then, 
for  the  summer  vacation,  the  big  hotel  with  its 
hurly-burly  that  is  but  a  translation  of  city 
noise  itself  should  be  passed  by,  and  the  precious 
weeks  utilized  to  give  ear  a  rest  as  well  as  brain 
in  some  quiet  spot  beside  the  "liquid  lapse  of 
murmuring  streams". 

Secondly,  don't  poke  anything  into  the  ear 
other  than  the  cloth-armed  end  of  -the  little 
finger !  Hairpins  are  of  innocent  use  on  the  head 
of  woman,  but  in  the  head  of  man,  woman,  or 
child  they  make  a  dangerous  dagger,  even  when 
stabbed  blunt  end  foremost.  And  things  called 
"ear-spoons",  sometimes  to  be  found  in  toilet- 
sets,  never  should  extract  anything  more  closely 
related  to  the  human  economy  than  stuck  ends 
of  broken  corks  in  medicine-vials.  In  a  healthy 
ear  no  more  wax  forms  than  is  needed  for  nature's 
purpose.  In  natural  course,  the  wax  works  to 
the  fore  gradually  by  itself,  and  comes  away 
imperceptibly  in  superficial  washing  by  a  cloth 
over  a  finger-end.  The  deeper  portion  of  the 
ear-canal  takes  care  of  itself;  needs  no  washing 
and  is  better  without. 

If  a  plug  of  hardened  wax  have  formed,  it  is 
to  be  removed  by  syringing  and  by  no  other 
means.  A  hard-rubber  ear-syringe  is  to  be  used, 
such  as  can  be  bought  at  any  drug-store.  These 


Hearing  187 

syringes  have  a  widening  nozzle  that  guards 
against  a  possible  too  deep  introduction.  The 
injecting  fluid  is  to  be  simply  water  of  such 
warmth  as  is  comfortable  to  the  ear,  which  will 
be  a  temperature  that  feels  warm  to  the  ringer 
without  being  hot.  With  the  left  hand  the 
operator  seizes  the  ear  and  draws  it  upward  and 
backward,  thereby  straightening  the  canal.  Then, 
directing  the  nozzle  of  the  syringe  along  the  rear- 
ward roof  of  the  canal,  he  injects  gently  at  first, 
but  with  gathering  force,  the  subject  holding  a 
vessel  to  catch  the  return-flow.  The  injecting  is 
to  be  continued  patiently  until  the  mass  is  dis- 
lodged. The  procedure  can  be  hastened  by  first 
instilling  into  the  ear  a  few  drops,  warm,  of  a 
solution  of  peroxide  of  hydrogen — one  part  of 
the  commercial  article  to  three  of  warm  water. 
Such  an  instillation  will  in  a  very  few  minutes 
soften  the  wax,  which  then  will  come  away 
quickly,  upon  syringing.  After  the  operation,  the 
ear  is  to  be  wiped  well,  and  the  subject  is  to 
stay  in  a  warm  room  until  the  deeper  parts  of 
the  ear  shall  have  dried. 

If  an  insect  get  into  the  ear,  don't  be  alarmed 
by  the  terrific  buzzing  and  clawing,  and  don't 
try  to  dig  out  the  intruder  with  a  hairpin  or 
other  instrument.  Simply  smother  him  with  a 
few  drops  of  oil  and  then  syringe  out  the  harm- 
less remains.  If  a  child  have  pushed  a  bean  or 
a  pebble  into  the  ear,  yet  again  no  poking;  but 
if  the  foreign  body  be  too  large  to  be  shaken  out 


1 88  Hearing 

— head  tipped  over  and  ear  worked  coffee-mill 
fashion — and  jammed  too  tight  for  removal  by 
syringing,  take  the  little  one  to  a  surgeon,  and 
still  be  not  alarmed,  nor  imagine  that  there  is 
any  desperate  haste  in  the  matter. 

In  case  of  earache,  don't  drop  sweet  oil  and 
laudanum  into  the  ear,  but  understand  that  the 
trouble  is  generally  an  acute  suppuration  that 
will  relieve  itself  only  by  a  bursting  of  bonds, 
and  for  which  the  means  of  temporary  allevia- 
tion is  by  heat,  heat,  and  yet  again  heat.  The 
upturned  ear  is  to  be  filled  with  warm  water,  as 
hot  as  the  ear  will  bear  comfortably,  and  to  be 
kept  so  filled  by  constant  renewal,  while  a  com- 
press of  hot  flannels  or  a  hot-water  bottle  covers 
the  whole  side  of  the  head.  Meantime,  if  the 
pain  be  intense,  as  often  is  the  case  in  the  noc- 
turnal seizures  of  children,  an  aurist  is  to  be 
summoned.  For  on  the  one  hand  the  condition 
may  be  serious,  and,  on  the  other,  relief  may 
be  had  from  a  simple  little  surgical  procedure. 

Don't  imagine  danger  from  the  curing  of  a 
chronic  discharge  from  the  ear.  The  notion  of 
danger  in  such  case  is  simply  an  ancient  bugaboo, 
utterly  baseless.  It  may  be  that  the  trouble  is 
irremediable,  but  if  indeed  curable,  cured  it  may 
be  without  harm,  and  cured  it  should  be  with- 
out delay. 

Don't  use  nasal  douches  of  any  kind,  except  by 
order  of  a  physician!  The  practice  is  liable  to 
set  up  disease  of  the  middle  ear. 


Hearing  189 

Don't  wear  cotton  in  the  ear  as  a  protective! 
Such  measure  simply  makes  the  ear  oversensi- 
tive and  more  likely  to  inflame  than  otherwise. 

Don't  bore  holes  through  the  lobes  whereby 
to  hang  ornaments,  like  a  sailor  or  a  savage! 
The  deed  is  barbarous  and  may  demand  retri- 
bution in  the  shape  of  blood-poisoning.  Neither 
imagine  that  such  boring  will  strengthen  the 
eyes.  It  will  no  more  affect  the  sense  of  sight 
than  that  of  smell. 

Don't  box  a  child  upon  the  ear !  Or  if,  the  deed 
done,  the  child  scream  with  pain,  don't  in  sud- 
den repentance  kiss  the  place  to  make  it  well! 
If  the  ear-drum  happen  to  have  been  thinned  by 
disease,  either  the  boxing  or  the  kissing  may,  by 
concussion,  split  it.  And  while  rupture  of  the 
drum  is  not  always  the  dreadful  matter  com- 
monly supposed,  it  certainly  is  not  a  justifiable 
punishment  for  childish  peccadilloes. 

Don't  lift  a  child  by  the  ears!  Dislocation  of 
the  neck  may  be  the  frightful  consequence.  . 

In  case  of  frost-bite,  don't  apply  heat,  but  cold ! 
The  principle  of  treating  frost-bite  in  general  is 
to  restore  the  arrested  circulation  as  gradually 
as  possible.  Quick  thawing  may  kill  the  tis- 
sues. So,  if  frozen  stiff,  the  part  is  first  to  be 
rubbed  with  snow  and  then  dressed  with  iced- 
water  compresses  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  and 
then  with  cooling  lotions  in  a  cool  room.  A 
frost-bitten  part  appears  white,  hard,  and  cold. 

Lastly,   don't   dive!      A  cruel  injunction,   per- 


190  Hearing 

haps,  for  one  may  dive  a  thousand  times  without 
harm.  But  the  thousand-and-first  night  may  be 
one  of  screaming  agony,  and  the  thousand-and- 
second  tale  be  poured  into  an  ear  that,  alas! 
heareth  not  nor  ever  will  again. 


CHAPTER  VII 
CLOTHING 

Nothing  is  thought  rare  which  is  not  new,  and  follow'd: 
yet  we  know  that  what  was  worn  some  twenty  years  ago 
comes  into  grace  again. — BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  many  and  many  a  century 
of  centuries  ago,  a  something  simian,  presum- 
ably tropical,  shed  his  fur  as  being  superfluous, 
and  so  foredoomed  middle-clime  man  to  the  ex- 
penditure of  much  brain  and  pocket  energy,  both, 
in  search  for  a  suitable  substitute. 

Nature  clothes  animals  with  hair,  a  material 
that  is  simply  filamentous  skin,  so  similar  is  it  in 
texture  to  the  parent  substance  from  which  it 
grows.  Since  nature,  with  eons  for  experiment- 
ing, arrives  always  at  a  wonderful  adaptation  of 
means  to  ends,  it  is  well  to  examine  this  unique 
product  of  hers,  which  is  as  suitable  for  the 
camel,  loping  over  burning  sands,  as  for  the  seal 
flopping  among  ice-floes. 

Wool,  as  a  type  of  fine,  curly  hair,  fitted  for  the 
weaving  of  soft  fabrics,  is,  like  hair  in  general, 
hygroscopic,  that  is,  it  absorbs  moisture  greedily 
and  exhales  it  slowly,  only.  At  the  same  time, 

by  reason  of  its  stiffness,  it  holds  moisture  witli- 

191 


192  Clothing 

out  collapsing.  Consequently,  woollen  under- 
wear, when  damp  from  the  moisture  of  the  body, 
does  not  become  sodden,  nor  does  it  chill  from 
quick  evaporation.  Furthermore,  it  does  not 
easily  become  offensive,  but  when  dried  and 
brushed  after  a  wetting  is  quite  in  its  original 
condition.  Being  naturally  curly  and  stifnsh, 
wool  weaves  easily  into  a  porous  fabric,  which, 
by  the  fact  of  its  loose  texture,  is  especially 
warm  for  its  weight.  So  it  comes  about  that  a 
thick  woollen  undergarment,  in  winter,  is  wonder- 
fully warm,  and,  in  summer,  one  thin  and  fine 
is  deliciously  cool,  dry,  and  sweet. 

These  qualities  make  wool  peculiarly  fitted  for 
underwear.  The  drawbacks  are  the  cost  and 
the  tendency  of  all-wool  goods  to  shrink  on 
washing.  So  far  as  concerns  the  cost,  it  is  to  be 
remembered  that  an  all-wool  fabric  will  long  out- 
wear one  of  cotton  or  linen,  so  that  although  the 
initial  cost  is  greater,  the  expense,  in  the  long 
run,  is  not  excessive.  The  shrinkage  by  wash- 
ing can  be  nullified.  First,  the  natural  gray 
fabric  is  to  be  selected  in  preference  to  the 
bleached,  in  which  case  the  shrinkage  will  be  less ; 
secondly,  the  garment  is  to  be  ordered  a  size  too 
large,  by  which  trick  the  shrinkage  simply  brings 
to  proper  fit;  and,  thirdly,  the  "lady"  who  so 
shrinkingly  presides  over  tub  and  ironing-board 
is  to  be  chosen  with  care,  as  one  who  will  follow 
directions  exactly  and  faithfully.  When  washed 
according  to  the  directions  that  come  with  the 


Clothing  193 

goods — with  ammonia-soap,  lukewarm  water,  and 
no  fierce  scrubbing — all-wool  garments,  if  made 
of  material  already  shrunken,  shrink  but  little 
in  the  washing. 

There  are  flannels  and  flannels.  There  is  the 
common  red  flannel  of  the  stoker  and  the  steve- 
dore, which  to  offer  for  underwear  to  the  sensi- 
tive skin  of  the  well-to-do  would  be  as  ridiculous 
as  impudent.  But  also  there  is  the  exquisite  all- 
wool  "stockinet",  made  expressly  for  underwear, 
whose  soft  and  supple  feel  is  to  the  skin  as  is  the 
skin  to  the  flesh  beneath.  Once  habituated  to 
this  material,  with  an  appreciation  of  its  intrinsic 
merits,  the  wearer  is  little  tempted  to  experi- 
ment with  others. 

Still  not  all  cutaneous  nerves  are  tuned  to  the 
same  key,  and  there  are  many  persons,  especial- 
ly among  women,  who  cannot  bear,  or  believe 
that  they  cannot  bear,  the  feel  of  wool  upon  the 
skin.  Such  dainty  skins  need  not  worry;  the 
matter  is  not  serious.  If  the  proof  of  the  pudding 
be  in  the  eating,  the  proof  of  the  clothing  lies 
in  the  wearing.  It  is  perfectly  possible  to  be 
healthy  and  long-lived  in  linen  or  in  silk,  and 
any  one  habituated  to  such  material  and  well 
and  comfortable  in  its  enfolding  has  no  call  to 
change  from  considerations  of  theory.  The  one 
important  point  about  underwear  is  that  it 
should  be  loose-meshed,  so  as  to  be  porous. 
That  condition  fulfilled,  the  material  may  vary 
according  to  taste  and  habit. 


1 94  Clothing 

Many  persons  are  repelled  from  the  use  of  all- 
wool  underwear  from  the  scratchiness  of  the 
garment  when  first  assumed.  The  milder  degrees 
of  scratchiness  come  from  stiff  hairs  and  disap- 
pear after  one  or  two  launderings.  The  severer 
grades  are  due  to  small  fragments  of  burs  which 
elude  even  the  most  thorough  carding  of  the 
wool,  and  so  remain  in  the  fabric  to  torment  the 
tender-skinned.  It  well  repays  the  time  and 
trouble,  always,  before  donning  a  new  article  of 
woollen  underwear,  to  bring  to  bear  upon  the 
garment  the  searching  services  of  good  daylight, 
a  magnifying-glass,  and  a  pair  of  tweezers. 

One  mistake  in  underclothing  is  common.  A 
subject  wears  wool  or  merino  by  day,  but  at 
night  changes  into  a  robe  of  cotton  and,  in  this 
chilly  attire,  creeps  between  yet  chillier  bed-sheets 
of  linen.  That  means  that  just  when  the  system 
is  most  relaxed  it  must  brace  its  forces  to  with- 
stand a  change  of  raiment  from  the  intrinsically 
warm  to  the  inherently  chilly!  Many  a  case  of 
nocturnal  cold  feet  or  of  restlessness  and  wake- 
fulness  is  due  to  nothing  else  than  just  this 
foolishness.  Those  who  would  know  real  com- 
fort in  sleeping  will  wear  a  woollen  night-robe 
and  a  long  one,  capable  of  covering  the  feet  when 
knees  are  bent,  and  also  will  make  the  bed,  too, 
to  wear  wool,  in  the  shape  of  sheets  of  such 
material,  light  and  fine,  but  deliciously  warm,  or, 
if  not  that,  at  least  a  blanket  under  the  sheet, 
between  it  and  the  ticking. 


Clothing  195 

The  nearer  an  article  of  clothing  is  to  the  skin 
and  the  snugger  the  fit,  the  greater  the  warmth- 
value,  so  to  speak.  A  thick  undershirt,  a  pair 
of  knee-protectors,  and  a  "sweater"  under  the 
coat  are  fully  the  equivalent  in  warmth  of  a 
thin  undergarment  and  a  massive  overcoat  of 
many  times  the  weight.  Theoretically,  under- 
wear of  a  single  grade  of  thickness  should  be 
worn  all  the  year  round,  the  necessary  seasonal 
variations  in  clothing  being  made  wholly  in  the 
over-garments.  Many  persons  follow  this  scheme, 
but  the  same  necessitates  heavy  overclothes  in 
winter  whose  weight  and  drag  are  oppressive.  By 
warm  underclothing,  on  the  other  hand,  two 
advantages  are  gained.  Indoors,  the  fire-fiend  at 
the  furnace-door  can  be  required  to  repress  his 
ardor,  and,  outdoors,  weight  can  be  made  to 
give  way  to  warmth,  and  the  vast  swathings  of 
an  "ulster"  be  exchanged  for  the  hardly-to-be- 
felt  supple  clingings  of  a  Cardigan  jacket.  The 
writer  has  tried  faithfully  the  one-grade  scheme, 
but  now,  for  winter  service,  has  returned  with 
great  satisfaction  to  a  warm  shirt  and  a  cool 
room,  a  knit  under  jacket  and  no  overcoat  at  all, 
so  long  as  the  thermometer  kindly  keeps  above 
the  ten  mark  on  the  Fahrenheit  scale.  Indoors, 
of  course,  a  thin  coat  is  to  be  worn.  Then,  for 
outing,  the  exchange  to  the  thicker  coat  of 
the  regular  suit  meets  the  requirement  to  be 
clad  warmer  for  the  street  than  for  the  fire- 
side. 


196  Clothing 

The  common  instinct  to  wear  dark  clothing  in 
winter  and  light -colored  stuffs  in  summer  is  well 
founded.  Dark  surfaces  absorb  heat,  white  ones 
reflect  it,  so  that  the  color  of  the  clothing  really 
makes  a  substantial  difference  in  the  resulting 
warmth  or  coolness,  as  the  case  may  be.  In  the 
writer's  younger  days  it  was  the  style  for  men 
to  dress,  in  summer,  in  suits  of  drilling,  light  gray 
or  snow-white.  O  that  the  delightful  fashion 
might  return! 

In  general,  the  European  dress  is,  for  men,  far 
heavier  in  proportion  than  it  is  for  women.  And 
the  fact  that  women,  in  their  much  thinner  rai- 
ment, are  perfectly  comfortable,  shows  to  what 
degree  thickness  of  clothing  is  a  matter  of  habit. 
Manner  of  life  and  idiosyncrasy  also  bear  on  the 
case.  A  vigorous,  hearty  subject  who  takes  much 
active  exercise  will  defy  cold  in  an  attire  that 
would  mean  misery  and  chills  to  a  thin  dyspeptic. 
The  general  tendency,  for  men,  is  toward  too 
much  clothing,  with  resulting  predisposition  to 
"colds".  And  among  the  many  layers  of  mas- 
culine attire  the  linen  shirt  is  an  uncomfortable 
and  superfluous  absurdity.  The  nuisance  can  be 
shed  by  the  following  simple  scheme,  and  Dame 
Fashion  be  none  the  wiser  save  in  the  matter  of 
necktie:  For  winter  wear,  let  the  undershirt  be 
cut  high  in  the  neck,  with  a  band  to  carry  the 
collar,  and  long  in  the  sleeves,  with  band  again 
to  take  cuffs.  Then  by  day  when  a  high-cut  vest 
is  wore  with  the  business-suit,  a  scarf  of  that 


Clothing  197 

former  style  where  the  tie  spreads  over  the 
whole  of  the  triangular  space  exposed  by  the 
flare  of  the  vest,  and,  by  night,  a  dicky  for  even- 
ing-dress, perfectly  keep  the  secret  of  the  shirt. 
Thus  a  single  and  soft  garment  replaces  the  cus- 
tomary combination  of  merino  undershirt  and 
linen  dress-shirt.  For  summer  wear  when  the 
vest  is  laid  aside,  the  equipment  is  a  gossamer 
undershirt  and  an  all-wool  neglige  overshirt  of 
exquisite  texture.  This  combination  affords  a 
costume  that,  whether  for  office,  veranda,  tennis- 
court,  or  quarter-deck,  cannot  be  criticised  for 
appearance,  and  cannot  be  approached  for  com- 
fort and  cleanliness.  These  various  garments,  in- 
cluding the  necessary  scarfs  of  old  style,  are  to 
be  had  of  merchants  who  make  a  specialty  of 
all-wool  underwear. 

Long  trousers  are  even  a  worse  abomination 
than  the  linen  shirt.  Having  no  support  at  the 
bottom,  they,  make  a  dead  drag  from  above  that 
must  be  met,  save  in  the  case  of  the  slender- 
waisted,  by  suspenders.  And  the  suspender  is 
an  invention  of  the  evil  one,  leading,  as  it  does, 
to  round  shoulders  and  to  shallow,  diaphragmatic 
breathing,  of  which  more  anon,  in  the  chapter 
on  physical  exercise.  The  true  nether  rig  is,  of 
course,  the  belted  one  of  a  bygone  century — the 
knee-breeches  of  our  great-grandfathers.  Trans- 
lated into  knickerbockers,  this  comfortable  and 
sensible  dress  is  still  permitted  for  summer  outing, 
and  even  in  winter  is  occasionally  to  be  seen 


198  Clothing 

about  the  knees  of  certain  park-cranks,  whose 
gray  hairs  give  privilege. 

Two  parts  of  the  body  take  special  clothing, 
the  head  and  the  feet.  Nature  clothes  the  head 
with  a  covering  at  once  beautiful  and  sufficient, 
a  covering  so  perfectly  adapted  to  its  purpose 
that  it  is  an  absurdity  to  overlay  it  with  any 
device  of  man.  That,  for  those  who  retain  their 
hair,  a  hat  is  no  more  necessary  than  a  nose-ring 
is  proved  by  the  case  of  women,  whose  hats  are 
not  hats  at  all,  and  of  Indians  and  latter-day 
equestrians,  who  go  bareheaded  without  com- 
plaint. But  if  the  hat  is  to  be,  it  should  be  soft. 
True  that  by  inexorable  decree  the  "stove-pipe" 
must  accompany  the  frock  suit,  but  except  on 
the  state  occasions  for  which  this  ugly  rig  is 
ordained,  why  not  the  soft  felt  hat  instead  of  the 
stiff?  Such  hat,  though  not  ultra-fashionable,  is 
always  respectable,  and  is  far  more  comfortable 
and  far  less  likely  to  lead  either  to  baldness  or 
to  merry  races  down  the  road  of  a  windy  day 
than  is  its  hard,  but  no  hardier,  brother  of 
Derby  fame. 

The  importance  of  proper  footgear  hardly  can 
be  overestimated,  for  if  the  underpinning  be 
faulty,  of  what  good  is  the  superstructure?  How 
peculiarly  exasperating  is  it,  when  perfectly 
healthy  and  full  of  business,  to  be  laid  off  in 
a  wheel-chair  or  doomed  to  stumble  along  on 
crutches  because  of  some  miserable  affection  of 
the  foot!  And  more  often  than  is  commonly 


Clothing  199 

imagined,  such  troubles  come  from  improper 
shoeing. 

The  normal  foot  is  a  beautiful  example  of 
engineering  skill.  Trussed  exactly  right  for  sup- 
port on  heel  and  ball,  it  is  provided  with  five 
prehensile  members  to  grip  the  earth  and  give 
spring  in  progression.  Then  upon  this  delicately 
balanced  structure  sits  heavily  the  Fiat  of  Fashion, 
and  in  the  stupidity  of  dense  ignorance  orders 
that  the  truss  be  tipped  up  from  behind  and 
the  prehensile  members  bunched  and  bound 
from  before.  So  the  truss  must  be  strained  and 
perhaps  broken  down  by  its  improper  setting, 
and  progression  be  changed  from  a  spring  by 
the  natural  grippers  to  a  heave  from  the  forward 
end  of  the  strained  truss  itself. 

But  though  in  the  past  much  damage  and 
unspeakable  discomfort  have  come  from  im- 
proper footgear,  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  note  that 
the  present  tendency  of  awl  and  knife  is  toward 
shoes  built  on  the  lines  of  the  human  foot  rather 
than  on  those  of  wooden  monsters  of  misrepre- 
sentation of  that  structure.  In  the  writer's  boy- 
hood, not  only  were  there  no  rights  and  lefts  to 
boots,  but  the  suffering  feet  were  obliged,  in 
the  wearing,  to  shift  right  to  left  and  left  to  right 
on  successive  days,  lest  forsooth  the  symmetry  of 
the  beautiful  piece  of  gear  should  come  to  be 
distorted  into  somewhat  of  the  lopsidedness  of 
the  foot  itself! 

There  are  still,  however,  two  common  errors 


2oo  Clothing 

of  pattern.  Let  any  one  whose  foot  has  not  been 
deformed  by  bad  shoeing  walk  barefoot  across 
the  floor,  observing  the  foot  as  he  treads,  and 
he  will  notice  that  the  great  toe,  in  gripping  the 
ground,  stands  somewhat  apart  from  its  next 
neighbor,  and  makes  of  the  inner  edge  of  the 
foot  a  straight  line  from  toe-tip  to.  heel.  Such 
line  should,  of  course,  be  preserved  in  the  shoe, 
but  almost  never  is  this  is  the  case,  the  shoemaker 
contracting  the  forward  end  of  the  shoe  some- 
what on  the  inside  as  well  as  upon  the  outer 
aspect.  The  snug-fitting  portion  of  the  shoe 
should  be  that  abaft  the  ball,  so  that  the  very 
snugness  there  will  tend  to  spread  the  toes,  which 
then  should  be  given  proper  room  for  the  sprad- 
dling. 

The  second  fault  is  the  old  story  of  the  heel. 
Nature,  in  her  planting  of  the  human  foot,  has 
made  no  mistake  needing  correction  by  man,  and 
an  artificial  elevation  of  the  heel  is  utterly  with- 
out reason.  The  evil  consequences  of  this  act 
of  violence — for  it  is  nothing  else — multiply  in 
geometrical  progression  with  each  "lift"  that 
the  wicked  shoemaker  tacks  on  to  the  growing 
pile. 

Overshoes,  if  really  necessary,  are  a  necessary 
evil.  Donned  to  keep  the  feet  dry,  they  often 
have  the  reverse  effect,  bathing  the  foot  in 
moisture  of  its  own  making.  And  considering 
the  excellent  waterproof  shoes  now  to  be  had, 
with  or  without  insoles  of  felt  and  linings  of 


Clothing  20 1 

woollen  cloth,  there  is  little  need  for  overshoes 
except  to  cover  the  thin  gear  that  must  go  with 
evening-dress. 

"It  is  time  to  begin  forming  her  figure",  so, 
many  years  ago,  the  writer  once  overheard  a 
dressmaker  to  say,  in  conscientious  discharge  of 
duty.  And  forthwith  a  blooming  adolescent  was 
called  in  from  the  tennis-field,  a  strait-jacket 
was  produced,  and  a  lissom  form,  free  of  motion 
and  firm  of  poise,  was.  made  to  enter  upon  a  life- 
imprisonment  that  it  might  thereafter  grow  to 
be  "formed"  in  deformity,  with  proper  develop- 
ment arrested,  movements  hampered,  and  muscles 
wasted. 

"It  is  time  to  begin  forming  his  head",  simi- 
larly might  remark  the  Flat-head  Indian  father 
as  he  applies  the  cruel  boards;  and  "  It  is  time  to 
begin  forming  her  feet,"  might  murmur  the  high- 
caste  Chinese  mother  as  the  yet  more  cruel  boot 
is  fastened  upon  the  foot  of  the  long-to-be-suffer- 
ing child. 

Well  is  it  for  the  present  generation  of  women 
that  in  the  pendulum-swing  of  fashion  the  wasp- 
waist  is  no  longer  "in  style",  so  that  the  corset 
has  ceased  to  be  the  instrument  of  torture  of 
former  days.  But  yet  anything  that  restrains, 
in  just  so  far  as  it  does  restrain,  restrains  also 
natural  development;  and  anything  that  "sup- 
ports", also,  by  the  very  measure  of  such  doing, 
substitutes  artifice  for  nature,  to  the  waste  of 
nature's  means,  ursurping  for  a  strip  of  steel 


202  Clothing 

what  could  be  done  far  better  and  with  far 
truer  grace  by  a  strip  of  muscle.  Modern 
woman  needs  to  re-learn  what  was  well  known 
to  her  sister  of  ancient  Greece,  that  beauty 
of  figure  comes  from  nature's  development  of 
the  figure,  with  clothing  following,  not  forcing, 
the  curves. 

If,  nowadays,  the  corset  of  the  grandmother 
has  relaxed  something  of  its  cruel  grip,  what  of  the 
shoe  of  the  granddaughter,  with  its  pinched  toe 
and  its  rampant  heel?  Let  answer  the  gait — 
the  hobble  of  a  satyr  replacing  the  glide  of  a 
nymph — now  everywhere  to  be  seen  upon  the 
street !  Is  the  arbiter  of  fashion  mad,  to  imagine 
beauty  in  distortion,  grace  in  effort,  or  is  it 
simply  that  fashion  means  novelty,  and  so,  since 
nature  is  ever  the  same,  even  shape  and  carriage 
must  be  wrenched  and  twisted  to  meet  the 
merciless  call  for  change  ? 

And  if  the  granddaughter  must  be  arraigned  for 
follies  of  fashion,  how  is  it  with  the  grandson? 
With  stiff  hat  killing  the  hair,  with  long  trousers 
and  lasso  braces  dragging  down  the  shoulders 
and  flattening  the  chest,  how  about  the  modern 
man? 

O  for  the  day  when,  following  the  hoop- 
skirt  and  the  coat-of-mail,  to  the  scrap-heap  shall 
go  corset  and  high  heel,  high  hat  and  suspender, 
and  the  Venus  of  Milo  and  the  Belvidere  Apollo 
live  again  in  the  flesh! 


Clothing  203 

Clothing  should  be  for  warmth  and  protection 
only.  And  the  simpler  the  style  the  greater  the 
comfort ;  the  more  natural  the  lines,  the  truer  the 
grace. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
BATHING 

For  cleanness  of  body  was  ever  esteemed  to  proceed  from 
a  due  reverence  to  God,  to  society,  and  to  ourselves 

— BACON 

"An,  now,  doctor,  what  are  you  about,  rip- 
ping the  clothes  off  my  Johnnie,  just  as  I'd  got 
him  sewed  up  for  the  winter!" 

Yes,  there  be  they  that  sew  themselves  up  for 
the  winter;  others  for  the  week,  and  others  for 
the  day  only.  And  truth  compels  to  say  that 
health  is  not  wholly  denied  to  the  dirty.  The 
pig  lives  as  well  as  the  cat:  the  Eskimo,  who 
never  washes,  seems  .as  hale  as  the  south-sea 
islander,  who  is  eternally  tubbing  it  in  a  veritable 
"  life  on  the  ocean  wave" . 

Nevertheless  the  daily  ablution  is  distinctly 
to  be  advised  both  for  cleanliness'  sake  and  for 
proper  discipline  of  the  skin,  as  set  forth  in  a 
foregoing  chapter.  For  such  discipline  cold 
water  is  peculiarly  efficacious,  again  as  already 
described,  and  also  cold  water  will  meet  every  need 
of  washing,  though  hot  water  may  remove  the 
more  epithelium.  But  the  epithelium,  or  scarf- 

204 


Bathing  205 

skin,  must  not  be  trimmed  down  too  fine.  Such 
trimming,  like  close  cropping  of  the  hair  or  biting 
of  the  nails,  deprives  the  underlying  parts  of  a 
natural  protection.  Incessant  ablutions  with 
very  hot  water  make  the  skin  unduly  tender. 
The  writer  knew  once  of  a  case  where  an  enthu- 
siastic novice  at  the  Russian  bath  got  the  soles 
of  his  feet  so  thin  and  sensitive  that  he  could 
not  walk,  and  actually  had  to  go  to  bed  till  his 
skin  should  grow  out  again ! 

If  the  bath  be  taken  hot,  it  should  be  hot 
enough  to  warm  the  bather  all  through,  and 
should  finish  with  a  sudden,  stingingly  cold 
douche  or  shower,  to  bring  proper  reaction  to  the 
relaxed  nerves  and  blood-vessels.  Under  such 
douche,  the  skin  reddens  with  rush  of  blood, 
and  a  most  exhilarating  glow  is  felt.  A  good 
rub-down  then  completes  the  bath,  and  the 
bather  issues  forth  with  nerves  fully  braced. 

The  so-called  Russian  bath  is  after  this  same 
plan.  The  bather  enters  a  chamber  of  hot  air 
surcharged  with  vapor,  and  here  he  swelters  till 
he  can  stand  it  no  longer.  Then  he  takes  a 
delicious  plunge  into  a  tank  of  cold  water,  fol- 
lowed by  a  cold  shower-bath,  and  comes  out 
with  skin  cool  on  the  outside  but  glowingly 
warm  within.  A  vigorous  rubbing  and  massage 
then  conclude  operations. 

A  Russian  bath  is  wonderfully  invigorating 
and  exhilarating,  but  once  a  week  is  often  enough 
for  the  indulgence, — the  bath  supplementing,  not 


206  Bathing 

substituting,  the  daily  morning  tub — and  the 
bather  should  not  make  the  mistake  of  staying 
in  too  long.  Many  heat  up  and  cool  off  a  number 
of  times  in  succession  during  the  same  bathing, 
but  this  is  unnecessary  for  the  purpose  of  the 
bath,  and  risks  an  undue  strain  upon  heart  and 
nerves.  Subjects  with  weak  heart  or  in  delicate 
health  from  any  cause  should  consult  the  family 
physician  before  indulging  in  this  form  of  bath. 

The  so-called  Turkish  bath  is  the  same  as 
the  Russian  except  that  the  air  of  the  bath- 
chamber  is  dry.  Being  dry,  it  can  be  raised 
to  a  much  higher  temperature  than  can  be  endured 
with  moist  air,  but  in  dry  air  the  bather  does 
not  so  quickly  or  so  readily  break  out  into  the 
desired  profuse  perspiration.  The  temperature 
of  a  Turkish  bath  may  reach  140°  F.  or  even 
higher. 

The  sea-bath — most  inspiring  of  all — is  unique 
in  that  it  combines  bathing  with  vigorous  exer- 
cise. For  even  the  pitiable  non-swimmer,  grip- 
ping fast  by  the  life-lines  and  staggering  beneath 
the  blows'  of  the  breakers,  makes  muscular  play 
a  plenty  in  the  tussle  with  old  Neptune.  The 
danger,  apart  from  that  of  drowning,  through 
folly,  is  that  in  the  fun  of  the  thing  the  bath 
is  unduly  prolonged.  Before  one  realizes  it, 
the  lips  are  blue,  the  teeth  chatter,  the  skin 
becomes  goose-fleshed,  and  the  bather  wakes  too 
late  to  the  fact  that  he  is  thoroughly  chilled. 
Hence  the  rule  for  sea-bathing  is : — Go  in  with  a 


Bathing  207 

rush;  stay  in  till  warm;  come  out  while  still 
warm.  To  some,  however,  the  initial  feeling  of 
cold  never  is  succeeded,  as  should  be  the  case, 
by  a  glow  of  warmth.  Such  unfortunates  must 
respect  their  idiosyncrasy,  while  they  are  sub- 
jects for  pity.  Sea-bathing  is  not  for  them. 

In  the  daily  tub  belongs  soap  along  with  the 
water.  And  the  particular  brand  of  soap  makes 
very  little  difference,  so  long  as  it  be  a  respect- 
able member  of  the  saponaceous  fraternity. 
There  is,  in  fact,  nothing  like  the  difference 
between  soaps  that  vigorous  exploitation  of 
special  examples  would  fain  have  the  public  to 
believe.  A  miserable  cheap  soap,  strong  of 
alkali  and  rank  grease,  is,  of  course,  to  be  avoided, 
but  an  honest  Castile  soap,  or  any  nice  soap 
of  the  drug-stores,  may  be  used  indifferently. 
The  wonderful  virtue  of  this  soap  or  that,  because 
of  some  special  trait  of  constitution  or  of  medici- 
nal impregnation,  is  simply  gammon.  The  writer 
once  met  with  an  exquisitely  dainty  woman  who 
habitually  used  no  fewer  than  ten  different  kinds 
of  soap  upon  different  sections  of  her  anatomy, 
because  of  special  virtues  of  each,  suited  to  the 
part.  Upon  expostulation  she  reduced  the  ten 
to  six,  but  below  that  limit  she  could  not  lessen 
the  differentiation  and  consider  her  sacred  skin 
properly  cleansed. 

After  the  bath,  stout  subjects  who  are  liable 
to  chafe  will  derive  great  comfort  from  the  use 
of  a  dusting  powder,  and  of  such  powders  those 


208  Bathing 

whose  basis  is  talc  are  preferable  to  those  made 
of  some  form  of  starch. 

To  prevent  chapping  of  the  hands  the  sim- 
plest device  is,  while  the  hands  are  still  wet  after 
a  washing,  to  rub  over  them  a  few  drops  of  pure 
glycerin,  and  then  wipe  very  dry.  Pure  glycerin 
applied  to  the  dry  skin  is  too  unctuous  and  is 
irritating,  but  when  the  hands  are  wet,  the 
moisture  present  effects  just  the  right  degree 
of  dilution.  If  a  bottle  of  glycerin  be  kept  on 
the  washstand,  and  the  procedure  described 
practised  regularly  every  time  the  hands  are 
washed,  in  winter,  the  skin  will  quite  surely 
keep  supple  and  soft.  If,  however,  the  pre- 
ventive fail,  some  toilet  cream  may  be  used. 
Such  creams  contain  oils  or  gums,  and  are  com- 
monly effective  and  wholly  harmless. 

For  painful  cracks  of  the  finger-ends,  a  good 
treatment  is  to  fill  the  crack  with  burnt  alum 
and  then  paint  over  with  flexible  collodion. 

Beautifiers  of  the  complexion  are  quite  inno- 
cent so  long  as  they  contain  no  lead. 

The  toilet  of  the  hair  and  scalp  requires  a 
special  word.  There  is  no  reason  why  these 
parts  should  not  receive  soap-and-water  atten- 
tion along  with  the  rest  of  the  body,  but  ordi- 
narily once  a  month,  instead  of  once  a  day,  is 
often  enough  for  a  shampoo  unless  the  hair  be 
so  thin  as  to  expose  the  scalp.  If  there  is  much 
dandruff,  the  shampooing  may  be  more  fre- 
quent— once  a  week  or  oftener.  The  fear  that 


Bathing  209 

shampooing  will  unduly  remove  the  natural  oil 
of  the  hair  is  groundless.  The  invigorated  scalp 
speedily  renews  the  supply.  Daily  cleansing  and 
stimulation  of  the  hair  is  effected  by  dry  brush- 
ing, which  should  be  vigorous.  Though  brush- 
ing brings  out  loose  hairs,  there  is  no  cause  for 
alarm.  The  hair-follicle  does  not  die  because  the 
hair  is  pulled  out,  but  immediately  grows  a  suc- 
cessor, very  likely  more  vigorous  than  the  one 
lost. 

If  senile  baldness  begin  to  appear,  whether  at 
the  proper  age  or  prematurely, — alas !  The  causes 
of  baldness  are  probably  complex,  and  the  ten- 
dency among  hat-wearing  men  to  lose  the  top 
hair  has  now  come  down  through  so  many  gen- 
erations that  heredity  doubtless  is  a  genuine 
factor  in  causation.  In  prevention  nothing  more 
can  be  done  than  to  wear  soft  hats  only,  to 
stimulate  hair  and  scalp  by  massage,  thorough 
brushing,  and  shampooing.  Hair-tonics,  like  lini- 
ments, serve  far  more  by  virtue  of  the  "  elbow- 
grease  "  of  their  appl'cation  than  through  any 
medicinal  action  of  their  often  ridiculous  ingre- 
dients. One  common  practice  is  to  be  avoided, 
the  wetting  of  the  hair-brush  to  make  the  hair 
lie  smooth.  Such  wetting  tends  to  rot  the 
hairs  as  it  does  the  bristles  of  the  brush.  The 
wetting  by  shampooing  is  different.  In  such 
case  hair  and  scalp  are,  or  should  be,  wiped  dry 
after  the  operation.  Cutting  the  hair  and  shav- 
ing have  no  effect  toward  making  the  hair  grow, 


2io  Bathing 

and  singeing  the  ends  of  the  hairs  to  hold  in  the 
oil  is  nonsense.  The  hair  is  not  a  tube,  as  many 
suppose,  but  a  solid  structure.  A  form  of  bald- 
ness accompanied  by  much  dandruff,  with  heat 
and  itching  of  the  scalp,  is  a  disease,  and  requires 
medical  treatment,  although  such  treatment  as 
is  practicable  does  not  promise  for  much. 

The  unnatural  and  uglifying  procedure  of 
bleaching  or  of  dyeing  the  hair  may  bring  a 
not  wholly  unmerited  retribution.  Peroxide  of 
hydrogen,  the  agent  used  for  producing  cham- 
pagne-colored hair,  removes  the  natural  oil  of  the 
hair  along  with  the  pigment,  thus  making  what 
should  be  glossy  locks  appear  dry,  lustreless, 
and  dead.  Hair-dyes  containing  lead  may  develop 
lead-poisoning,  and  those  containing  salts  of  other 
metals  may  stain  variously.  The  most  noxious 
of  hair-dyes  are  those  containing  pyrogallic  acid 
and  the  chloride  of  paraphenylenediamine ,  which 
may  produce  inflammatory  affections  of  the  skin 
as  terrifying  in  appearance  as  their  own  names. 

Nature  commonly  makes  the  color  of  the  hair 
to  conform,  aesthetically,  with  the  complexion, 
and  the  silver  threads  that  honor  the  silver- 
wedding  day  unbecome  no  one. 


CHAPTER  IX 
DISPOSING   OF   WASTE 

All  things  must  come  to  the  earth  by  and  by 
Out  of  which  all  things  grow 

— OWEN  MEREDITH 

A  TREE,  a  squirrel,  and  a  nut:  the  nut  goes 
down  the  squirrel  and  the  squirrel  goes  up  the 
tree.  The  shell  is  simply  dropped:  it  goeth 
where  it  listeth,  and  the  squirrel  recketh  not. 

A  finger-bowl,  a  man,  and  an  orange:  the 
orange  goes  into  the  man  and  the  man's  fingers 
go  into  the  bowl.  Then  the  bowl  goes  to  the 
sink,  and  the  sink  goes  to  the  soil-pipe;  the 
soil-pipe  goes  to  the  drain,  and  the  drain  goes  to 
the  sewer;  the  sewer  goes  down  the  street  and 
whithersoever,  beyond,  the  city-fathers  have 
ordained.  Also  the  peel  goes  to  a  plate,  and 
the  plate  goes  to  a  pan;  the  pan  goes  to  a  can 
and  the  can  goes  to  a  cart;  the  cart  goes  to 
the  corner,  and  whithersoever,  beyond,  again, 
the  municipal  authorities  direct. 

The  wild  animal,  whose  home  is  the  whole 
range  of  the  forest,  disposes  of  his  waste  by 
dropping  it  to  earth  and  moving  himself  off. 
Man,  similarly,  must  return  his  waste  to  nature 


211 


212  Disposing  of  Waste 

for  final  disposal,  but,  since  his  domicile  is  fixed, 
must  move  the  waste  off,  and  not  himself,  and 
this  item,  simple  in  theory,  has,  for  its  pro- 
vision in  practice,  taxed  human  ingenuity  to  the 
utmost. 

Life  has  been  on  earth  for  untold  centuries, 
but  throughout  the  whole  duration  of  this  vast 
eon  nature  has  been  disposing  of  waste— of  dead 
bodies  and  outcastings  from  the  animal  kingdom, 
and  of  dead  leaves,  withered  stalks,  and  fallen 
trunks  from  the  vegetable  kingdom.  The  amount 
of  matter  thus  handled  yearly  is  incalculable; 
that  during  the  centuries  since  life  began,  incon- 
ceivable. Yet  is  the  lap  of  nature — the  sur- 
face of  forest,  plain,  and  stream — as  sweet  and 
beautiful  to-day  as  in  the  year  when  first  grass 
grew  and  insects  crawled. 

The  scheme  of  nature  for  this  stupendous  and 
never-ending  task  is  simple ;  the  waste  of  living 
things  is  mostly  organic  substance;  such  sub- 
stance, then,  is  to  be  disorganized  and  returned 
to  its  primary  mineral  or  gaseous  condition. 
Then  the  inorganic  products  so  resulting  are  to 
be  reabsorbed  by  plant-life,  and  by  the  mys- 
terious potency  of  vegetable  protoplasm  are  to 
be  rehabilitated  into  organic  substance.  And 
by  this  eternal  cycle  of  integration  and  dis- 
integration of  its  substance,  life  is  possible  upon 
earth  so  long  as  sunlight  shall  endure. 

Now,  this  wonderful  operation  of  nature  that 
so  busily  but  so  silently  goes  on  about  us  for- 


Disposing  of  Waste  2 1  3 

ever  at  every  hand,  how  is  it  accomplished? 
At  a  dance-party,  the  daughters  of  the  gracious 
hostess  constitute  a  floor-committee,  of  watchful 
eye,  to  forestall  all  fading  of  "  wall-flowers " 
by  introducing  hovering  bees  in  black  and  white. 
So  also  nature :  in  the  surface  layer  of  soil,  where 
entangled  oxygen  from  the  atmosphere  is  abun- 
dant, the  silent  dame  marshals  her  floor-com- 
mittee— a  countless  host,  whose  function  it  is  to 
introduce  to  every  waiting  molecule  of  dead 
organic  matter  a  molecule  or  group  of  mole- 
cules of  some  special  element,  for  future  partner, 
that  the  eternal  dance  of  decomposition  may 
merrily  go  on. 

A  countless  host,  indeed,  this  floor-committee 
of  nature,  for  its  members  are  numbered  by 
the  million,  billion,  trillion,  or  "any  old  "  number 
that  defeated  imagination  may  put  forward  at 
a  guess.  And  the  members,  what  are  they— 
ants?  If  size  be  a  matter  of  pride,  then  proud 
indeed  would  be  such  an  individual  to  be  thought 
an  ant,  for  to  such  a  one  an  ant  is  as  is  behe- 
moth to  the  ant!  No,  this  floor-committee  is 
made  up  of  beings  far  too  small  to  be  kenned 
by  the  unaided  eye  of  man.  These  beings  are 
not  ants,  but  microbes — bacteria,  those  strange, 
ever-busy,  most  minute  of  organisms  with  which 
the  invisible  world  teems  in  countless  swarms. 

This  statement  of  a  microbe  doing  an  office 
friendly  to  life  may  startle  some  readers,  with 
whom  a  bacterium  is  a  thing  of  bad  reputation. 


214  Disposing  of  Waste 

In  the  minds  of  many  the  only  idea  of  a  bac- 
terium is  that  of  a  "  germ  "  that  produces 
dreadful  disease — a  thing  to  be  disinfected  on 
sight.  Such  an  idea  is  hopelessly  narrow.  The 
case  is  exactly  like  that  of  a  civilized  commu- 
nity. The  enormous  majority  of  the  members 
are  law-abiding,  good  citizens,  busy  at  a  life- 
work  that  redounds  to  the  good  of  the  com- 
munity: an  insignificant  minority,  only,  con- 
stitute a  criminal  class  whose  desert  is  indeed 
prison  or  death.  The  law-abiding  bacterium 
is  an  all-important  agent  of  nature  in  deter- 
mining chemical  activity  on  earth.  Without 
bacteria  there  would  be  no  life;  without  bac- 
teria the  very  bread  and  butter  of  this  morn- 
ing's breakfast  would  not  digest! 

Nature,  then,  disposes  of  waste  by  chemical 
conversion  on  or  near  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
through  the  agency  of  the  bacterial  swarms 
there  present.  If  the  waste  is  in  particles 
exposed  freely  to  air,  certain  bacteria  which, 
like  mammalian  animals,  require  oxygen  for 
their  thriving,  attack  it  and  decompose  it  to 
simple  mineral  compounds.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  oxygen  be  deficient,  as  where  the  waste 
is  in  mass  and  buried  away  from  free  circula- 
tion of  air,  then  the  conditions  favor  the  propaga- 
tion of  another  and  different  class  of  nature's 
invisible  scavengers,  a  class  that  loves  not  oxygen 
and  even  is  poisoned  thereby.  The  hosts  of 
this  class  constitute  nature's  ^'/-committee,  as 


Disposing  of  Waste  215 

contradistinguished  from  the  /foor-committee, 
and  might  not  inaptly  be  styled  "The  Noisome 
Sons  of  Suffocation,"  since  their  attack  upon 
organic  matter  yields  not  the  simple  products 
forged  by  the  "Sons  of  Air,"  but  a  complex 
series  of  offensive  and  poisonous  intermediary 
compounds.  These  "Sons  of  Suffocation,"  in 
short,  determine  putrefaction. 

Just  as  low  characters  love  bad  company, 
so,  as  hangers-on  to  the  sons  of  suffocation, 
will  be  found,  ever,  the  criminally  disposed  in 
the  community  of  Microbia.  For  the  bacterial 
germs  of  disease  are  also  of  the  kind  that  thrive 
in  the  absence  of  free  oxygen.  Accordingly 
the  conditions  that  favor  putrefaction  favor  also 
the  breeding  and  dissemination  of  typhoid  fever, 
diphtheria,  et  id  omne  genus. 

These  facts  give  the  key  to  the  proper  dis- 
posal of  his  waste  by  man.  Such  waste  is  not 
to  be  accumulated  in  vaults,  there  to  putrefy 
and  breed  foulness  and  disease,  but  to  be  delivered 
immediately,  while  still  inoffensive,  to  the  labo- 
ratory-works of  nature  upon  the  very  surface 
of  natural  soil.  In  this  statement  the  words 
"still  inoffensive"  are  used  advisedly,  for,  though 
it  may  surprise  to  read,  it  is  a  fact  that  the 
fresh  effluent  of  a  house-drain  is  in  no  wise 
offensive.  Basins,  sinks,  and  tubs  give  only 
water,  and  water  in  such  quantity  that  the  solid 
matter  of  the  sewage  is  only  as  one  to  five  hun- 
dred of  the  fluid.  Moreover,  such  solid  matter, 


2 1 6  Disposing  of  Waste 

under  the  influence  of  abundant  water,  speedily 
loses  its  characteristics:  offers  no  odor,  and, 
breaking  down,  becomes  wholly  unrecognizable. 
If  the  lid  be  raised  from  the  "flush  tank"  (of 
which  more  anon)  of  the  sewerage  system  of 
a  country  establishment,  there  will  be  seen  only 
dirty  water — nothing  worse  than  a  milky  fluid 
having  a  faint  odor,  as  of  laundry-water.  If, 
then,  this  wholly  inoffensive  effluent  of  the 
house-drain  be  delivered  upon  the  surface  of 
the  soil  before  putrefaction  begins,  and  if  the 
delivery  be  so  adjusted  that  full  time  shall  be 
allowed  for  the  forces  of  nature  to  dispose  of 
one  quantum  before  the  next  arrives,  then,  by 
order  of  Dame  Nature,  without  further  to  do  by 
man,  and  without  any  fussing  whatever  with 
chemicals,  disposal  will  take  place,  tuto,  cito, 
et  jucunde,  and  the  sewage  will  disappear,  as 
such,  as  completely  as  by  fire.  The  water  sinks 
away  into  the  earth,  purified  in  the  passage,  and 
the  solid  particles  of  organic  matter,  deposited 
upon  the  soil,  are  instantly  set  upon  by  the 
ever-ready  surface  bacteria,  with  the  result  of 
speedy  conversion  into  so  much  phosphates, 
nitrates,  sulphates,  carbon  dioxide,  and  water — 
material  ready  for  appropriation  by  plant-life. 

So  thorough  is  the  natural  disposal  of  waste 
that,  with  proper  intermissions  in  the  delivery, 
to  allow  time  for  nature's  operations,  a  given 
area  of  ground  can  be  used  indefinitely  for 
disposal  purposes,  just  as,  on  the  large  scale, 


Disposing  of  Waste  217 

nature,  herself,  uses  the  general  surface  of  the 
earth.  Moreover,  field-areas  thus  put  to  the 
receiving  of  waste  are  thereby  fertilized  and 
can  be  cultivated  with  profit. 

The  disposing  of  waste  by  immediate,  inter- 
mittent delivery  upon  the  surface  of  soil  is  pre- 
eminently the  system  for  the  country  establish- 
ment, but  also  is  applicable  to  the  waste  of 
large  cities.  The  city  of  Berlin,  with  its  nearly 
two  million  inhabitants,  disposes  of  its  sewage 
in  just  this  manner.  Cities  by  the  sea,  such  as 
New  York,  adopt  the  cheaper  method  of  dis- 
charging by  sewers  directly  into  tide-water,  and 
cities  by  large  rivers  very  commonly  discharge 
into  the  river.  In  such  case,  very  much  as  by 
the  action  of  soil,  the  sewage  comes  to  disappear 
by  disintegration  and  oxidation  in  the  water. 
Accordingly  rivers  of  the  size  of  the  Ohio  or 
the  Hudson  will  so  dispose  of  the  sewage  of  a 
large  city,  such  as  Albany,  that  the  down-stream 
water  a  few  miles  below  will  be  as  sweet  and 
potable  as  that  upstream.  Unfortunately,  how- 
ever, one  possible  constituent  of  sewage  escapes 
this  otherwise  nearly  complete  purification,  and 
that  constituent,  too,  the  very  one  most  danger- 
ous to  human  life,  namely,  the  living  "  germs  " 
of  infectious  disease.  These  pestiferous  mischief- 
makers  will  carry  their  mischievous  potency 
through  miles  of  running  water,  far  beyond  the 
point  where  has  disappeared  utterly  all  other 
organic  companionship.  By  reason  of  the  men- 


2 1  8  Disposing  of  Waste 

ace  to  health  thus  resulting,  the  discharge  of 
sewage  into  rivers  is  certainly  not  commendable, 
and  the  discharge,  by  country  establishments, 
village  or  individual,  into  small  streams  is  not 
only  not  commendable,  but  most  emphatically 
condemnable. 

A  practical  system  for  the  disposing  of  waste 
consists  of  two  parts:  first,  the  scheme  for  get- 
ting the  waste  out  of  the  house  (house-drainage) ; 
and  secondly,  that  for  carrying  it  to  the  place 
of  delivery  to  the  hands  of  nature  (sewerage). 
In  a  country  establishment,  the  householder  is 
in  charge  of  the  system  "  from  start  to  finish  ", 
but  in  the  city  he  is  responsible  only  for  the 
house-drainage.  In  a  city  establishment,  when 
the  effluent  turns  the  corner  into  the  public 
sewer,  it  passes  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
householder  into  that  of  the  municipality. 

First,  then,  as  to  the  item  that  concerns  city 
and  country  householder  alike,  namely,  the  sys- 
tem for  house-drainage: 

A  gala  day,  as  the  writer  remembers  it,  was 
that  one  in  the  early  forties  when  New  York, 
with  blare  of  trumpet  and  flutter  of  flag,  made 
herself  proud  over  the  freedom  of  faucet  and 
bowl,  as  the  fair  Croton  made  its  first  rush 
through  eager  pipes.  But  the  child  that  on 
that  day  dabbled  and  splashed  for  joy  in  the 
newly-installed  bathtub,  little  dreamed  he  that 
within  the  generation  it  would  be  his  stern  duty 
to  stand  by  and  order  every  inch  of  that  pretty 


Disposing  of  Waste  219 

plumbing,  from  topmost  tap  to  sewer-connec- 
tion, ripped  out  and  cast  away  as  a  very  abomi- 
nation of  insanitation !  For  there,  in  fell  poten- 
tiality, was  the  ventless  waste-pipe,  to  be  sucked 
dry  of  its  water-seal  by  siphonage:  the  pan- 
closet,  with  its  mid  "  chamber  of  horrors  ";  the 
blind,  un ventilated  soil-pipe  of  lead,  to  be  eaten 
through  from  within  by  corrosion  and  from 
without  by  rats;  and  the  loose- jointed  and 
buried  drain,  to  sag,  break,  and  leak  all  unseen 
and  unknown,  thus  discharging  much  of  its  con- 
tents into  the  subsoil  of  the  house,  instead  of 
into  the  sewer. 

Since  the  days  when  such  stupidities  were 
installed,  mighty  have  been  the  strides  of  sani- 
tary engineering,  until,  at  the  present  day,  the 
bathroom  is  the  very  pride  of  r  the  house,  the 
purest  and  sweetest  chamber  beneath  the  roof! 

The  system  for  the  drainage  of  a  modern 
house  is  as  follows:  The  backbone  of  the  system 
is  a  tight -join  ted  iron  pipe  reaching  from  two 
feet  above  the  roof  straight  down  through  the 
house  to  the  cellar,  and  thence,  by  an  incline 
forward,  out  to  the  sewer  in  the  street.  This 
is  the  pipe  that  carries  off  all  waste  from  basins, 
bowls,  sinks,  and  tubs  within  the  house.  The 
vertical  portion  constitutes  the  "  soil-pipe  ";  the 
horizontal  portion,  the  "  house-drain  ".  The  soil- 
pipe  part  is  commonly  four  inches  in  diameter 
and  is  open  at  the  free  end  above  the  roof,  the 
opening  being  grated  and  protected  from  the 


22o  Disposing  of  Waste 

weather  by  a  return-bend  or  a  cowl.  The  house- 
drain  portion  is  not  embedded  in  the  cellar-floor, 
but  is  above-ground  till  it  reaches  the  street, 
running  along  the  house-wall,  fully  exposed  for 
inspection  and  repairs.  It  trends  forward  on  a 
down  grade  of  at  least  half  an  inch  to  the  foot. 
Under  the  front  pavement  the  drain  makes  a 
short,  sloping  dip  down  and  up  on  a  curve  of 
easy  lines,  thus  forming  a  "  trap  "  This  run- 
ning trap  is  always  full  of  fluid  and  so  inter- 
poses a  water-seal  to  keep  out  air  from  the  sewer. 
In  order  to  ventilate  the  piping  an  air-shaft 
reaches  from  the  drain,  on  the  house-side  of 
the  trap  just  mentioned,  to  the  outer  air,  the 
opening  being  most  conveniently  placed  at  the 
curbstone,  where  it  is  protected  by  a  grating. 
By  this  arrangement,  the  drainage  system  is 
freely  open  at  both  ends  to  the  air,  from  curb- 
stone to  roof,  while  access  of  sewer-air  is  cut 
off  by  the  running  trap.  Since  the  air  of  the 
house  itself  is  commonly  warmer  than  that  of 
the  street,  the  draught  is  upward,  fresh  air 
coming  in  at  the  curb  and  passing  out  at  the 
roof. 

Just  as  sewer-air  is  cut  off  from  the  soil-pipe 
by  the  main  trap  in  the  house-drain,  so  soil- 
pipe  air  is  cut  off  from  basin  and  sink  within 
the  house  by  a  trap  of  similar  principle  in  the 
local  waste-pipe  of  each  fixture.  Then  to  com- 
plete the  protection,  each  local  waste-pipe  has 
an  air-vent  in  the  shape  of  a  pipe  reaching 


Disposing  of  Waste  221 

upward  from  the  distal  arm  of  the  local  trap 
and  opening  into  the  soil-pipe  above  the  point 
of  delivery  of  the  uppermost  waste-pipe  of  the 
house.  This  air-vent  saves  the  local  trap  from 
siphonage  when,  by  the  down-rush  of  a  dis- 
charge from  above  through  the  soil-pipe,  there 
is  an  air-pull  upon  all  lower  openings  into  the 
soil-pipe  as  the  piston-like  six-gallon  discharge 
goes  by.  The  air-pull  now  simply  pulls  down 
air  from  above  through  the  back  air- vent,  instead 
of  pulling  out  the  water  from  the  trap,  as  would 
be  the  case  if  there  were  no  such  saving  air- 
communication  . 

Lastly,  the  rain-leaders  lead  straight  down  to 
the  cellar,  either  within  or  without  the  house, 
as  the  case  may  be,  and  deliver  into  the  house- 
drain  with  an  interposing  running  trap. 

In  some  cities,  and  very  commonly  abroad, 
the  running  trap  between  the  house-drain  and 
the  sewer  is  omitted  together  with  the  curb- 
stone air-shaft.  In  such  case  the  sewer  ven- 
tilates itself  through  every  house  soil-pipe. 
The  argument  for  this  arrangement  is  that 
the  safest  defense  from  foul  sewer-air  is  not 
to  have  the  sewer-air  foul,  and  it  is  contended 
that  by  free  ventilation  through  plenty  of  per- 
forated manholes,  on  the  one  side,  and  each 
house-top,  on  the  other,  the  air  in  both  sewer 
and  house-drain  is  nearly  as  pure  as  the  air  of 
the  street  itself.  Of  course,  in  any  such  scheme 
every  house  must  depend  for  its  safety  on  the 


222  Disposing  of  Waste 

reliability  of  its  own  plumbing,  both  as  to  design 
and  condition. 

Plumbing  is  tested  by  volatile  oil  of  pepper- 
mint or  by  smoke.  A  little  of  either  agent  is 
introduced,  with  proper  precautions,  into  the 
piping,  and  by  its  oozing  at  any  point,  as  made 
manifest  by  sight  or  odor,  discloses  the  fact  of 
a  leak. 

In  a  house  with  modern  plumbing,  proved  by 
peppermint  to  be  in  good  order,  there  is  no 
danger  from  sewer-air,  and  consequently  no 
objection  at  all  to  plumbing-fixtures  in  chambers. 
But  such  fixtures  should  be  open,  that  is,  with 
all  pipes  freely  exposed.  There  should  be  no 
encasing  woodwork  to  harbor  horrors  and  invite 
vermin  to  become  fellow  lodgers.  In  the  bath- 
room, the  bath-tub  should  be  of  glass  or  porce- 
lain, standing  free  on  its  own  squat  legs,  like  a 
headless  hippopotamus,  and  exposed  on  all  sides. 
Floor  and  wainscot  should  be  of  material  that 
can  be  washed,  such  as  marble  or  tiling,  and, 
though  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  plumbing, 
a  small  chimney-flue  opening  into  a  little  fire- 
place beneath  the  window,  wherein  is  set  a  cosy 
little  gas-log,  will  afford  inexpressible  comfort. 
For  shrinking  skins,  such  a  warm  friend  close  at 
hand  robs  the  shower-bath  of  half  of  its  cold- 
shoulder  unkindness. 

In  a  country  establishment  which  must  dis- 
pose of  its  sewage,  and  which  does  so  by 
direct  delivery  upon  the  surface  of  soil,  it  is 


Disposing  of  Waste  223 

advisable  to  exclude  storm-water  from  the 
drains  in  order  that  the  effluent  may  be  always 
a  fairly  constant  quantity.  Accordingly,  in 
such  an  establishment,  the  rain-water  leaders  do 
not  deliver  into  the  house-drain,  as  they  do 
in  a  city  house,  but  independently,  at  any  con- 
venient place,  on  the  ground  itself.  The  effluent 
is  nothing  but  the  purest  of  water,  so  that  it 
is  unobjectionable  save  for  its  wetness.  Also, 
since  the  house-drain  delivers  by  an  open  mouth 
into  a  tank  (of  which  more  anon),  such  drain 
does  not  need  the  running  trap  and  air-vent 
present  in  the  city  plant.  With  these  modifica- 
tions the  scheme  for  house-drainage  in  a  country 
house  is  the  same  as  that  for  a  city  residence. 

And  now  for  that'  all-important  concern  of  a 
country  householder,  the  system  for  the  sewerage : 

The  principle  is,  of  course,  that  already  elu- 
cidated, namely,  the  delivery  of  the  drain- 
effluent  in  intermittent,  strong  gushes,  directly 
upon  the  surface  of  soil.  The  scheme  is  sim- 
plicity itself.  A  field  is  selected  for  the  disposal- 
area,  convenient  to  the  house  and  not  neces- 
sarily far  removed  therefrom.  The  field  must 
be  on  a  gentle  slope  trending  down  from  the 
direction  of  the  house.  Then,  coursing  from 
house  to  field,  the  house-drain  leads  to  a  tank 
into  which  it  pours  its  contents  from  above, 
and  through  a  basket-screen;  the  tank  dis- 
charges through  a  pipe  into  a  triple  set  of  branch- 


224  Disposing  of  Waste 

ing  outlets,  and  the  outlets  deliver  by  open 
mouths  directly  upon  the  surface  of  the  dis- 
posal-area. A  fan-shaped  apron  of  tiles  beneath 
each  mouth  insures  even  distribution  of  the 
effluent. 

"The  house-drain  leads  to  a  tank";  why  this 
complication?  Why  not  continue  the  drain,  as 
a  sewer,  directly  down  to  the  point  of  divergence 
of  the  branching  outlets?  The  question  is  apt, 
but  the  answer  is  sufficient:  the  tank  is  the 
heart  of  the  system,  without  whose  rhythmic 
throb  the  system,  as  a  system,  would  languish 
and  die! 

Mention  has  several  times  been  made  of  the 
need  of  an  intermittent  delivery  of  the  sewage, 
in  order  to  give  time  for  the  forces  of  nature 
to  dispose  of  a  given  discharge.  A  constant 
dribble,  or,  worse  yet,  a  constant  flood,  always 
in  the  same  place,  would  soon  saturate  the  soil, 
overwhelm  kind  nature's  floor-committee,  and, 
undergoing  putrefaction,  would  carry  into  the 
ground  and  to  the  watercourses  beneath,  pollu- 
ting foulness.  Accordingly  the  tank  is  installed, 
whose  function  it  is  to  establish  exactly  the 
intermittency  of  sewage-flow  indispensable  for 
the  working  of  the  system.  And  this  the  tank 
does,  automatically  and  unfailingly,  by  a  simple 
application  of  the  principle  of  the  siphon.  The 
tank,  instead  of  delivering  into  its  discharge- 
pipe  by  a  straightaway  connection,  does  so 
through  a  siphon-arm.  The  consequence  is  that 


Disposing  of  Waste  225 

there  is  no  discharge  at  all  from  the  tank  until 
the  contained  fluid  rises  to  the  level  of  the  bend 
of  the  siphon;  but,  the  moment  that  level  is 
reached,  with  a  rush  the  entire  contents  of  the 
reservoir  pass  out  in  a  strong  flood. 

The  tank  is  planned  of  such  size,  according  to 
circumstances,  that  it  will  fill  and  discharge  once 
daily:  then,  by  means  of  a  gate  where  the  dis- 
charge-pipe branches,  one  set  of  outlets,  only,  is 
in  use  at  any  one  time.  Accordingly,  by  a 
double  means,  abundant  time  is  afforded  for 
each  given  section  of  disposal-ground  to  do  the 
disposing  assigned  to  it. 

The  disposal-field  is  perfectly  sweet.  The 
basket-screen  through  which  the  house-drain 
pours  its  effluent  into  the  tank  catches  all  ex- 
traneous matter,  such  as  bits  of  paper  or  of  rag, 
and  operates  to  comminute  sewage  masses,  so 
that  what  the  tank  has  to  discharge  is  simply 
a  milky  fluid  with  more  or  less  of  fine  particles 
of  solids  in  suspension.  The  outlets  of  the 
discharge-pipes  emit  no  odor.  Except  when 
comes  the  gush  of  a  discharge,  one  may  walk 
dry-shod  within  a  few  inches  of  the  open  mouths 
and  not  even  know  of  their  existence.  An  area 
of  one-tenth  of  an  acre  will  serve  for  a  household 
of  twelve  persons,  and  may  be  kept  in  use  for 
its  purpose  indefinitely.  The  more  the  use, 
the  more  abundant  the  development  of  bacteria, 
and  so  the  better  equipped  becomes  the  soil  for 
its  disposal-function.  The  field  may  wave  with 


226  Disposing  of  Waste 

com  or  wheat:  the  sewage  is  converted  into 
salts,  the  salts  into  corn,  and  the  corn  into 
man,  thus  exemplifying  the  never-ending  cycle 
of  life.  The  system  is  available  for  any  climate 
where  man  builds  permanent  domiciles,  operat- 
ing perfectly  well  even  through  the  severe  frosts 
of  a  Canadian  winter. 

This  system  for  the  disposal  of  sewage  is  what 
is  known  as  the  surface-irrigation  system.  Under 
certain  conditions  of  soil  and  topography  a 
modification  of  the  scheme  is  advisable,  so  that 
the  delivery  is  not  by  open-mouthed  outlets 
on  a  slope,  but  by  open-jointed  tiles  laid  under- 
neath, but  near  to  the  surface  of  the  ground. 
In  this  case  the  delivery  plant  is  entirely  con- 
cealed, and  the  disposal  field  may  be  in  near 
proximity  to  the  house  and  in  full  view,  all 
without  the  least  danger  of  offense.  This  sub- 
surface irrigation  system,  as  it  is  called,  entails 
some  modifications  in  the  sewerage  plant,  notably 
the  requirement  of  a  "settling-tank"  antecedent 
to  the  flush-tank;  but  these  modifications  of 
detail  do  not  affect  the  principle,  which  is  the 
same  for  this  system  as  for  that  already  described. 

No  other  scheme  for  the  disposal  of  sewage 
can  compare  with  these  methods  by  surface  or 
subsurface  irrigation,  respectively.  These  irri- 
gation-schemes leave  nothing  to  be  desired;  one 
or  other  is  possible  in  any  locality  or  soil ;  neither 
gives  offense  in  any  part  or  at  any  time,  nor 
does  season  or  weather  in  any  way  affect  the 


Disposing  of  Waste  227 

working.  The  construction  is  the  acme  of 
simplicity,  so  that  there  is  nothing  to  get  out  of 
order.  The  development  of  these  systems  to 
their  present  perfection  of  detail  is  largely  due 
to  the  genius  of  the  late  Col.  Waring,  the  eminent 
New  York  civil  engineer,  and  the  systems,  as 
described,  are  commonly  known  as  the  "Waring" 
systems. 

"If  the  hill  will  not  go  to  Mahomet,  Mahomet 
will  go  to  the  hill."  If  the  sewage  cannot  be 
put  upon  the  soil,  the  soil  must  be  put  upon  the 
sewage.  And  that  is  to  say  that,  in  country 
houses  not  provided  with  running  water  to 
serve  as  carrier  for  sewage,  the  decomposing 
action  of  soil  upon  human  outcastings  still 
may  be  secured  by  installation  of  the  earth- 
closet  for  its  special  function.  The  regular  earth- 
commode  is  best,  whereby  the  delivery  of  the 
earth  is  done  automatically;  but  in  the  absence 
of  the  special  device  efficient  service  can  be  got 
by  a  pile  of  dry  earth,  a  shovel,  a  coal-hod,  and 
a  cart.  The  earth  for  use  in  the  earth-commode 
must  be  dry.  The  action  is  the  same  as  that 
in  surface-irrigation.  The  earth,  after  use,  if 
kept  dry  and  freely  exposed  to  the  air,  decom- 
poses the  contained  sewage  completely,  so  that 
after  some  weeks  such  earth  is  nothing  but 
earth  again,  and  may  be  used  anew  in  the  com- 
mode. Care  and  attention  are  necessary  to 
keep  an  earth-closet  plant  in  good  order,  and 


228  Disposing  of  Waste 

the  rule  must  be  absolute  that  the  closet 
is  to  be  used  for  none  other  than  its  proper 
purpose — is  never  to  be  made  a  dumping-place 
for  slops  of  any  kind.  At  best,  the  earth-closet 
is  but  a  poor  substitute  for  a  water-carriage 
system,  but  it  is  the  only  substitute  that  should 
be  allowed. 

What  may  be  called  the  Cesspool-and-Com- 
pany  system  for  the  disposal  of  waste  is  to  be 
mentioned  only  to  record  the  fact  that  it  has 
been  tried  and  found  worse  than  wanting:  has 
been  convicted,  indeed,  of  murder  in  the  first 
degree,  and,  failing  a  recommendation  to  mercy, 
has  duly  been  sentenced  to  the  extremity  of 
the  law.  May  execution  not  be  delayed!  The 
organic  world  casts  its  effete  material,  always, 
upon  the  surface  of  the  ground:  at  the  surface, 
therefore,  accommodating  nature  sets  her  labora- 
tory for  the  disposal  of  waste.  '  Yet  in  the  face 
of  this  plainest  of  "  pointers  ",  behold  stupid 
man  digging  a  deep  pit  in  which  to  accumulate 
his  waste,  and  carefully  to  hoard  it,  close  to 
himself  and  to  his  water-supply!  So  held,  the 
stuff  is  subject  to  each  and  every  of  the  con- 
ditions most  conducive  to  the  full  development 
of  its  worst  and  most  offensive  possibilities. 
Indeed,  if  one  should  set  out  deliberately  to 
plan  the  annoyance,  sickening,  and  death  of  an 
enemy  by  turning  upon  him  the  bale  of  his 
own  outcast  ings,  such  plotter  could  do  no 


Disposing  of  Waste  229 

better  than  to  copy  what  the  writer  has  seen 
with  his  own  eyes,  and  within  the  year,  in  country 
districts  not  fifty  miles  from  the  border-line  of 
the  great  and  enlightened  city  of  New  York 
itself. 

In  a  deep  pit  for  the  holding  of  waste  is  present 
that  combination  of  conditions  that  especially 
makes  for  noisomeness,  namely,  wet  accumula- 
tion away  from  air.  The  contents  of  the  pit, 
then,  are  foredoomed  to  putrefaction  and  to 
the  fostering  of  any  disease-germs  that  may 
happen  to  be  present.  If  the  bottom  of  the  pit 
be  simply  the  soil  in  which  the  pit  is  dug  ("  leach- 
ing "  cesspool  or  vault),  the  products  of  putre- 
faction sink  into  the  earth,  to  pollute  or  infect 
the  first  underground  watercourse  they  may 
chance  to  meet.  If  the  pit  be  tight,  as  by 
cementing,  then  comes  the  horror  of  the  clean- 
ing out,  prefaced,  very  likely,  by  the  antece- 
dent horror  of  an  overflow! — But,  enough:  let 
the  veil  be  drawn  while  a  prayer  goes  up  for 
advent  of  the  day  when  to  deposit  organic  matter 
in  a  pit  shall  be  an  offense  indictable  under  the 
law! 

In  this  connection  a  word  will  not  be  amiss 
as  to  the  function  of  the  bowels.  If  there  be 
sluggishness  there,  then  in  the  human  body  itself 
is  exemplified  the  very  condition  of  accumula- 
tion just  arraigned,  and  the  febrile  derange- 
ments from  self-infection  in  such  cases  attest 


230  Disposing  of  Waste 

well  the  poisonous  nature  of  the  products  evolved. 
The  bowel-function  should  receive  attention  daily, 
and  regularly  at  a  stated  hour,  most  naturally 
after  breakfast.  Regularity  is  all-important,  and 
easily  can  be  acquired  by  systematic  essay  at 
the  appointed  time.  In  case  of  sluggishness, 
medicine  should  be  avoided  as  much  as  possi- 
ble. Laxative  foods,  such  as  fruits  and  the 
coarser  cereals,  a  glass  of  water  on  rising,  ac- 
tive exercise  and  abdominal  massage  are  all 
effective  aids  to  the  function.  Among  foods, 
prunes  are  specially  serviceable.  If  medicine 
be  required,  as  often  is  the  case  in  the  sluggish- 
ness of  the  aged,  common  and  cheap  Epsom 
salt  will  serve  quite  as  well  as  an  expensive, 
imported  aperient  water  from  over  the  sea. 
From  a  saltspoonful  to  a  teaspoonful  of  the 
salt,  according  to  case,  may  be  dissolved  in  half 
a  tumblerful  of  hot  water,  and  the  draught 
taken  immediately  on  rising.  So  administered 
upon  an  empty  stomach,  a  little  goes  a  great 
way,  and  a  natural  effect  is  due  shortly  after 
breakfast.  Taken  hot,  the  draught  has  no  taste 
whatsoever  and  is  not  likely  to  disorder  the 
stomach.  The  medicine  does  not  lose  its  influ- 
ence by  habitual  use.  An  injection  is  proper 
for  occasion  only.  Frequent  resort  to  the  pro- 
cedure all  too  easily  establishes  an  intolerable 
slavery. 

Garbage  is  either  to  be  delivered  for  removal 


Disposing  of  Waste  23  I 

to  a  cart,  or  else  cremated  upon  the  premises. 
If  to  be  removed,  it  should  be  deposited  in  a 
tight  can  with  a  lid,  and  the  lid  should  be  kept 
in  place.  On  no  account  is  garbage  to  be  mixed 
with  the  house-ashes.  The  ashes  go  for  the 
filling-in  of  lands  and,  of  course,  should  be  kept 
undefiled.  If  the  family  is  small,  so  that  the 
amount  of  garbage  is  within  the  range  of  the 
range,  the  stuff  may  easily  be  incinerated  in 
that  domestic  crematory  as  fast  as  it  accrues. 
An  attachment  to  a  kitchen-range  for  just  such 
purpose  has  been  invented. 

Ashes,  being  inorganic  and  inoffensive,  may 
be  accumulated  in  open  receptacles,  and  delivered 
for  removal,  or,  in  a  country  establishment, 
may  be  used  about  the  premises  for  any  appro- 
priate purpose.  Sprinkling  the  ashes  before 
dumping  will  tend  to  allay  the  nuisance  of  dust 
in  the  handling. 

In  the  way  of  fate,  Azrael  summons,  and  son 
or  father,  mother  or  wife  is  called  upon  to  dis- 
pose of  the  remains  of  a  loved  one  gone.  Here, 
for  once,  the  scheme  of  nature  may  not  be  copied : 
what  life  has  left  may  not  itself  be  left  on  the 
hillside  to  be  the  prey  of  scavengers  of  the  wilds 
or  of  the  soil.  But  if  civilization  forbids  nature's 
way  of  disposing  of  the  dead,  no  less  must 
Hygieia's  voice  be  raised  against  civilization's 
own  favorite  method,  that  by  earth-burial. 


232  Disposing  of  Waste 

Stated  as  a  hard  material  fact — the  only 
aspect  of  the  matter  with  which  hygiene  is 
concerned — interment  of  the  dead  is  another 
case  of  the  deposit  of  organic  matter  in  a  pit, 
there  to  be  the  subject  of  underground  putrefac- 
tion, with  all  its  attendant  dangers.  Modern 
efforts  to  defeat  the  forces  of  the  soil  do  not 
defeat  but  only  hold  in  check  for  awhile,  so 
that  a  "  city  of  the  dead  ",  even  as  peopled  in 
this  latter  day,  is  ever  a  silent  menace  to  the 
contiguous  city  of  the  living.  The  danger,  of 
course,  can  be  minimized  by  proper  selection 
of  the  site  of  the  one  city  with  reference  to  that 
of  the  other,  and  by  proper  administration,  but 
it  is  impossible  to  foresee  the  future  development 
of  living  communities ;  and  to  disturb,  by  reloca- 
tion, the  peace  of  a  city  of  the  dead  is  as  shock- 
ing to  sanitation  as  to  sentiment. 

In  view  of  these  facts,  a  substitute  for  the 
interment  of  human  remains  that  shall  be  free 
from  the  objections  intrinsic  to  the  procedure, 
is  distinctly  a  desideratum  of  hygiene.  And 
hygiene  has  not  far  to  look,  for  right  at  hand 
is  a  process  for  the  disposal  of  the  dead,  as  old 
as  history,  and  one  that,  as  practised  with  modern 
appliances,  is  at  once  absolutely  sanitary,  abso- 
lutely effective,  convenient,  and  of  unlimited 
practicability. 

Organic  matter  in  mass  is  to  be  reduced  to  the 
inorganic  condition.  Two  agencies  will  do  the 
work:  the  one  will  take  months  and  years,  the 


Disposing  of  Waste  233 

oth.r  minutes.  The  one  will  work  in  a  round- 
about way,  through  a  process  yielding,  in  mid- 
stage,  offensive  and  poisonous  products;  the 
other  in  a  manner  direct  and,  as  practically 
applied,  innoxious.  The  one  will  require  for 
its  laboratory  a  considerable  and  'ever-widening 
area  of  ground,  the  other  nothing  but  a  moder- 
ate-sized building.  Both  will  effect  precisely  the 
same  ultimate  result — the  disorganization  of  or- 
ganic matter,  and  its  retroversion  into  simple 
and  stable  inorganic  compounds.  The  agent 
whose  method  is  slow,  clumsy,  roundabout, 
offensive,  and  noxious  is  the  bacterium;  the  one 
whose  way  is  direct,  swift,  sweet,  and  innocent 
of  bale  is  that  which  a  beautiful  mythology 
represents  to  have  been  stolen  from  heaven  for 
the  benefit  of  man  on  earth. 

As  administered  by  modern  institutions  for 
the  purpose,  the  gift  of  Prometheus  is  made 
to  return  to  nature  that  which  is  her  own,  after 
a  manner  that  should  not  shock  even  the  most 
tender  sensibilities.  Quite  to  the  contrary,  in- 
deed, the  every  suggestion  here  is  of  purity  and 
light,  as  opposed  to  the  reverse  association 
inseparable  from  the  thought  of  interment.  In 
the  symbolic  drapery  of  a  robe  the  sacred  bur- 
den is  borne  to  a  shining  door;  then  what  is  of 
ether  goes  to  join  its  fellows  among  the  glad 
winds  of  heaven,  while  what  is  of  earth  waits 
to  sleep  upon  the  open  lap  of  the  common  mother 
of  all. 


234  Disposing  of  Waste 

"  Dust  to  dust  ",  in  verity,  not  in  mockery, 
and  at  some  sweet  spot  loved  of  the  loved  one, 
where  waving  grass  and  spreading  shade  soothe 
to  peace,  is  reverently  strewn  what  may  not 
pass  into  the  sunshine  above.  And  when,  in  the 
fecundity  of  earth,  is  born  at  that  spot  a  flower, 
how  sweet  the  thought  that  in  the  perfumed 
petals  lives  anew  something  of  what  was  mortal 
in  the  life  that  has  gone  before! 


CHAPTER  X 
DISINFECTING 

The  glorious  sun 
Stays  in  his  course  and  plays  the  alchemist 

— SHAKESPEARE 

IP  the  body  is  to  be  kept  clean,  so  also  is 
the  house,  and  ordinarily  the  means  is  the  same 
in  either  case — bodily  removal  of  the  dirt.  But 
in  the  case  of  the  domicile  there  are  occasions 
when  noxious  matter  is  either  elusive,  inac- 
cessible, or  not  immediately  removable.  In  such 
case,  then,  it  is  proper,  but  wholly  as  a  make- 
shift, to  attack  the  enemy  in  situ,  by  chemical 
means. 

If  a  vigilance  committee  is  out  against  an 
illicit  distillery,  there  are  three  things  possible 
to  do.  As  the  most  effective  procedure,  the 
"moonshiners"  may  be  killed!  Or,  their  lives 
spared,  they  may  be  tied  hand  and  foot  so  that 
they  cannot  ply  their  trade,  or  they  may  be 
allowed  full  liberty  to  work,  but  the  product 
of  their  labors  be  destroyed  as  fast  as  manu- 
factured. Now  noxious  matter,  like  liquor,  is 
made  by  the  agency  of  living  things,  and,  accord- 

235 


236  Disinfecting 

ing  to  circumstances,  it  is  possible  either  to 
destroy  the  life  that  is  making  the  mischief, 
or  to  stop  the  mischief-making  though  the 
makers'  lives  be  spared,  or  to  change  the  mis- 
chief made  into  a  something  no  longer  mis- 
chievous. Incidentally,  in  the  latter  case,  if 
the  mischief  be  malodorous,  the  bad  smell  dis- 
appears in  the  metamorphosing. 

Here  are  distinct  and  dissimilar  operations; 
why  should  they  be  identically  styled?  But 
such  is  the  case,  and  whether  the  deed  be  wrought 
on  the  mischief-maker  or  on  the  mischief  made, 
the  operation  is  equally  called  disinfection,  a 
name  that  may  not  even  fit  the  case  at  all! 

"  Disinfection  "  is  properly  the  abolishing,  in 
infectious  material,  of  its  power  to  infect.  But 
it  may  be  that  in  the  matter  to  be  disinfected 
there  is  no  infection  at  all,  but  only  aggregated 
nastiness.  However,  there  is  no  use  quarreling 
with  names,  and  the  terms  disinfection  and 
disinfectants  have  come  to  stay.  It  is  only 
important  to  understand  that  disinfection  may 
mean  entirely  different  operations,  according  to 
conditions,  and  that  disinfectants,  in  different 
cases,  may  work  to  the  same  end  in  entirely 
different  ways.  By  the  same  token,  there  is  no 
one  best  or  most  powerful  disinfectant.  Con- 
ditions calling  for  disinfection  are  so  dissimilar 
that  an  agent  applicable  to  one  case  may  be 
wholly  inappropriate  for  another. 

Broadly  stated,  these  same  conditions  fall  into 


Disinfecting  237 

two  categories:  first,  the  presence,  or  suspected 
presence,  of  a  mischief-maker ;  and,  secondly,  the 
presence,  whether  or  not  obvious  to  the  senses, 
of  a  mischief  made.  Often  enough  the  two 
conditions  exist  together.  The  mischief-makers 
are  the  microscopic  plant-organisms  that  manu- 
facture poisons  causing  disease,  each  after  its 
kind,  while  the  mischiefs  made  may  be  these 
same  manufactured  poisons,  or  substances  con- 
taining them,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  may  be 
simply  foul  and  ill-smelling  organic  matter  having 
no  relation  at  all  to  specific  disease. 

"  Disease-germs,"  or  simply  "  germs  ",  as  the 
organisms  producing  infectious  disease  are  com- 
monly called,  may  be  present  in  air,  in  the  form 
of  a  microscopic  dust,  or  in  water,  in  suspen- 
sion, or  as  household  contamination  in  the  home 
of  the  infecting  subject.  Foul  but  non-infec- 
tious organic  matter  may  in  the  same  way 
contaminate  air,  water,  or  household  appurte- 
nances. 

"  Disinfectants "  are  numerous  and  incon- 
gruous. It  is  unnecessary  even  to  enumerate 
them  all,  first,  because  their  name  is  legion, 
Indeed,  and,  secondly,  because  all  styles  of 
disinfection  can  be  accomplished  by  use  of  some 
one  or  ones  of  the  following-named  agencies: 
fresh  air;  sunshine;  heat;  formaldehyde  gas;  sul- 
phur dioxide  gas;  solution  of  mercuric  chloride 
(corrosive  sublimate);  solution  of  carbolic  acid; 
chlorinated  pn  parations ;  solution  of  potassium  per- 


238  Disinfecting 

manganate ;  solution  of  cupric  sulphate  (blue  vit- 
riol) and  lime. 

Fresh  air  and  sunshine  commonly  go  together, 
and  are  disinfectants  of  the  highest  power  and 
value.  Thorough  airing  of  a  chamber  recently 
vacated  by  one  'ill  of  infectious  disease,  and 
thorough  airing  and  sunning  of  infected  bedding 
and  clothing,  actually  will  kill  lingering  disease- 
germs  more  efficiently  than  chemicals.  The 
objection  is  that,  in  crowded  communities,  the 
disease  in  question  may  be  spread  in  the  very 
process  of  destroying  its  seeds. 

Heat,  if  sufficiently  high  and  long  continued, 
is  certain  death  to  everything  living,  disease- 
germs  included.  The  boiling,  for  an  hour,  of 
infected  articles,  makes  sure  disinfection.  On 
the  large  scale,  heat  is  applied  in  the  shape  of 
superheated  steam  in  vacua,  in  specially  con- 
structed disinfecting  plants.  Such  steaming  is 
peculiarly  reliable,  because  it  penetrates  thor- 
oughly through  even  bulky  masses,  such  as  the 
substance  of  a  mattress  or  a  roll  of  clothing. 
Ordinary  cotton  and  woolen  fabrics  and  mail- 
matter  are  not  affected  by  steaming,  but  leather, 
silks,  satins,  furs,  and  articles  of  rubber  or  such 
as  are  joined  by  glue,  are  injured.  The  steam 
is  heated  in  a  confined  chamber  to  the  tem- 
perature of  230°  F.,  and  the  exposure  is  con- 
tinued for  fifteen  minutes. 

Formaldehyde  is  a  colorless  gas,  pungent  and 
irritating.  A  forty  per  cent  aqueous  solution  is 


Disinfecting  239 

known  as  formalin.  The  gas  is  a  powerful  germi- 
cide, and  since  it  is  easily  made  and  does  not 
injure  even  the  most  delicate  fabrics,  it  is  the 
best  gaseous  disinfectant  known.  The  draw- 
back with  it  is  that  it  does  not  penetrate,  but 
acts  only  on  exposed  surfaces.  Consequently, 
everything  to  be  disinfected  by  the  gas  must 
thoroughly  be  exposed — clothing  hung  on  lines, 
mattresses  picked  apart  and  the  hair  spread 
about  the  floor,  etc.  The  gas  must  be  applied 
in  strong  dose  and  the  exposure  continued  for 
twelve  hours.  Accordingly,  the  chamber  to  be 
disinfected  must  be  sealed,  all  but  one  keyhole, 
by  strips  of  paper  pasted  with  starch  paste  over 
all  cracks,  such  as  those  of  doors  and  windows. 
Next,  when  all  contained  articles  are  duly  exposed, 
the  last  door  is  shut  and  sealed  on  the  outside, 
all  but  the  keyhole.  Then,  by  use  of  a  specially- 
constructed  formaldehyde  generator,  the  gas  is 
applied  through  the  keyhole.  When  the  charge 
is  delivered,  the  hole  is  sealed  and  the  chamber 
left,  without  opening,  for  twelve  hours.  Then  the 
operator,  with  face  protected  by  a  wet  sponge, 
enters  and  quickly  rips  open  a  window,  after 
which  room  and  contents  are  thoroughly  aired. 
Other  methods  of  applying  the  gas  are  by  gen- 
erators to  be  left  in  operation  within  the  room, 
but  such  methods  are  slow  and  uncertain  as 
compared  witli  the  one  described. 

Sulphur    dioxide,   the    gaseous    product    of  the 
burning  of  sulphur,  is  unpleasantly  familiar  to 


240  Disinfecting 

most  throats  as  the  suffocating  fumes  given  off 
by  a  sulphur  match.  The  gas  operates  after  the 
manner  of  formaldehyde.  It  is  probably  not  so 
potent  as  formaldehyde,  and  like  that  gas  it  acts 
superficially  only.  It  is  effective  only  in  the 
presence  of  moisture,  and  has  the  drawback  of 
bleaching  and  of  injuring  colored  and  gilded 
wall-papers,  and  delicate  fabrics  such  as  silks 
and  satins.  Its  advantage  is  that  it  is  cheap 
and  handy,  requiring  no  special  apparatus.  To 
apply  the  gas,  the  chamber  is  prepared  pre- 
cisely as  for  application  of  formaldehyde.  Then 
a  tub  of  water  is  set  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
and  in  the  tub  an  iron  pot  to  receive  the  sulphur. 
Or  a  pair  of  tongs  may  be  spraddled  across  the 
tub  and  on  the  legs  a  metal  plate  set  for  the 
sulphur.  The  sulphur  may  be  what  is  known 
as  "  sublimed  sulphur  " — a  powder — which  then 
is  best  mixed  with  one  fortieth  part  of  powdered 
charcoal  to  secure  easy  combustion,  or  roll  sul- 
phur may  be  used,  broken  into  bits  and  wetted 
with  alcohol.  Also  so-called  "  sulphur  candles  " 
are  in  the  market,  especially  prepared  for  use 
in  fumigation.  The  proportion  of  sulphur  should 
be  three  or  four  pounds  for  each  one  thousand 
cubic  feet  of  air-space  to  be  fumigated.  When 
all  is  ready,  the  sulphur  is  fired  with  a  tea- 
spoonful  of  flaming  alcohol,  whereupon  the 
operator  instantly  vacates  the  room  and  shuts 
and  seals  the  door  behind  him.  As  with  for- 
maldehyde fumigation,  the  chamber  is  to  be 


Disinfecting  241 

given  a  twelve-hour  stew  in  the  gas,  and  after- 
ward is  to  be  aired  thoroughly  with  all  its  con- 
tents. 

Chlorine  is  another  possible  and  powerful 
gaseous  disinfectant,  but  it  is  dangerous  and 
disagreeable,  and  bleaches  strongly.  It  has  no 
possible  advantage  over  formaldehyde  or  sulphur. 

In  cities  where  there  may  be  a  board  of  health, 
fumigation  of  a  vacated  sick-chamber  is  done 
by  the  authorities,  and,  naturally,  is  thus  much 
better  done  than  by  amateurs. 

One  point  in  connection  with  disinfection  by 
fumigation  should  thoroughly  be  understood.  An 
impregnation  of  air  strong  enough  to  kill  a  germ 
must  necessarily  be  strong  enough  to  kill  also  a 
human  being.  Consequently,  absolutely  futile 
are  such  procedures  as  the  placing  of  saucers 
of  carbolic  acid  under  the  sick-bed,  or  the  burn- 
ing of  pastilles  or  of  little  bits  of  sulphur,  or 
sprinklings  and  sprayings  with  chlorinated  lime 
or  soda,  all  while  the  patient  is  still  in  the  room. 
All  that  can  be  accomplished  by  such  means  is 
an  imperfect  deodorizing.  A  room  cannot  be  dis- 
infected until  the  occupant  is  out  of  it. 

Mercuric  chloride  (corrosive  sublimate)  is  the 
king  of  germicides  to  be  used  in  solution.  The 
salt  is  a  deadliest  of  poisons  to  all  forms  of  life, 
and  its  very  potency  makes  it  dangerous  for 
domestic  use.  Its  true  place  as  a  disinfectant  is 
in  the  sick  chamber  or  the  operating-room  in 
care  of  the  professional  medical  man  or  nurse. 


242  Disinfecting 

Corrosive  sublimate  is  a  crystalline  solid,  making 
a  colorless,  odorless  solution,  which,  however, 
has  a  very  acrid,  metallic  taste.  Such  a  solu- 
tion, of  the  strength  of  one  part  of  the  salt  to 
one  thousand  of  water,  is  very  serviceable  for 
immediate  disinfection  in  the  sick-chamber,  as 
of  soiled  clothing,  towels,  etc. 

Carbolic  acid,  in  spite  of  its  extensive  vogue, 
is  both  overrated  and  misunderstood.  The  acid 
is  a  germicide  pure  and  simple,  and  has  no  effect 
whatever  on  foul  substances  or  odors.  All ,  it 
can  do  when  applied  to  malodorous  matters  is 
to  mask  the  bad  smell  by  its  own  worse  one. 
Even  as  a  germicide,  it  is  not  to  be  compared 
with  mercuric  chloride.  But  a  five  per  cent  solu- 
tion (saturated  aqueous  solution)  may  be  used 
as  a  sick-room  disinfectant  in  the  same  way 
as  the  sublimate  solution  just  described.  Car- 
bolic acid  is  a  crystalline,  deliquescent  solid,  of 
a  strong,  characteristic  smell,  and  makes  a  solu- 
tion that  turns  pinkish  on  keeping.  The  stuff 
is  poisonous  and,  in  concentrated  condition,  pro- 
duces mortification  of  the  parts  with  which  it 
comes  in  contact.  Its  solutions  are  objectionable 
by  reason  of  their  odor. 

Chlorinated  preparations  are  chlorinated  lime, 
commonly  miscalled  "  chloride  of  lime  ",  and 
solution  of  chlorinated  soda,  "  Labarraque's  Solu- 
tion ".  These  preparations,  on  exposure,  are 
slowly  decomposed  by  the  carbon  dioxide  of  the 
atmosphere,  yielding  free  chlorine  gas.  This  gas, 


Disinfecting  243 

in  turn,  acts  on  moisture,  decomposing  water, 
appropriating  the  hydrogen  and  setting  free  the 
oxygen.  Newly  liberated  oxygen  is  like  a  boy 
newly  released  from  school,  active,  aggressive, 
and  up  to  mischief  generally.  Accordingly 
"  nascent  "  oxygen,  set  free  from  water  by 
chlorine,  seizes  instantly  upon  anything  within 
reach  that  is  oxidizable  and — and  marries  it  on 
the  spot!  Then  self  and  spouse  become  a  staid 
couple  to  whom  the  pranks  of  unmarried  days 
are  now  forgotten  and  impossible.  In  such 
roundabout  way,  chlorinated  preparations  act  as 
oxidizing  agents  to  convert  foul  matter  into 
different,  inodorous,  and  innocent  substance. 
But  for  fumigation  the  yield  of  chlorine  by  these 
agents  is  utterly  inadequate.  One  result  of 
the  oxidation  wrought  by  chlorinated  prepara- 
tions is  to  bleach  and  to  attack  metals,  an  effect 
that  should  not  be  forgotten,  lest  some  colored 
fabric  or  steel  tool  or  utensil  inadvertently  be 
ruined. 

Chlorinated  lime  is  a  whitish  powder,  granular, 
and  of  characteristic  odor.  It  is  partially  soluble 
in  water,  and  decomposes  in  air,  as  just  described. 
It  is  an  effective  deodorizer  and  sweetener,  and 
may  be  used  freely  in  bulk,  to  deodorize  the 
foul  matter  of  vaults  and  other  receptacles  not 
metallic.  A  three  or  four  per  cent  solution  makes 
an  effective  detergent  wash,  but  should  not  be 
used  upon  colored  or  delicate  textile  fabrics.  The 
preparation  is  cheap. 


244  Disinfecting 

Solution  of  chlorinated  soda  is  practically  a 
duplicate  of  chlorinated  lime  in  solution.  It  is  a 
pale  greenish  fluid  of  similar  smell  to  the  lime 
preparation.  Its  mode  of  action,  properties,  and 
uses  are  the  same  as  those  of  chlorinated  lime. 
The  solution  may  be  used  in  full  strength  to 
deodorize  vaults,  drains,  etc.,  or,  in  a  fivefold  or 
tenfold  dilution,  as  a  detergent  wash  about  the 
person. 

Potassium  permanganate  (chameleon  mineral) 
is  also  an  oxidizing  agent  and  a  very  powerful 
one,  acting  by  the  ready  disengagement  of  a 
portion  of  the  oxygen  of  its  own  acid  radical. 
Its  applicability  is  restricted  by  the  fact  that, 
except  in  weak  solution,  it  will  stain  even  mar- 
ble and  porcelain,  and  will  act  on  metals.  The 
salt  occurs  in  deep  purple,  nearly  black,  acicu- 
lar  crystals  which  dissolve  readily  in  water, 
making  a  rich  violet  solution.  Such  a  solution 
is  an  instant  and  powerful  deodorizer,  by  its 
prompt  oxidation  of  organic  matter.  Solutions 
for  use  should  range  in  strength  from  one-fifth 
per  cent  to  four  per  cent.  A  weak  solution  made 
empirically  to  give  only  a  delicate  lilac  tint  does 
not  stain,  and  makes  both  a  handy  and  an 
elegant  detergent  wash  for  hands,  basins,  brushes, 
etc. 

Since  the  permanganate  is  itself  decomposed 
in  its  oxidizing  operation,  it  loses  color  in  acting. 
Accordingly,  in  purifying  a  fluid  mixture,  the 
permanganate  solution  may  continue  to  be  added 


Disinfecting  245 

so  long  as  the  characteristic  tint  is  promptly 
discharged.  When  the  color  persists,  the  fact 
shows  that  all  oxidizable  matter  is  now  oxidized. 
The  treatment  then  may  stop.  This  point  of 
behavior  gives  a  ready  test  of  completeness  of 
action  by  permanganate,  which  is  wanting  in 
the  case  of  other  deodorants. 

Potassium  permanganate  is  entirely  too  costly 
to  be  used  where  large  quantities  of  a  chemical 
are  needed,  but  yet  the  crude,  commercial 
grade  of  the  salt  is  not  so  expensive,  and  is 
effective.  A  quantity  of  the  crystals  equal  to 
a  thimbleful  may,  with  benefit,  be  dropped  into 
the  traps  of  plumbing  fixtures,  and  the  resulting 
solution  allowed  to  stand  a  little  while  before 
discharging.  Such  treatment  will  quickly  abolish 
smells.  Similarly,  a  drop  or  two  of  a  fairly 
strong  solution  will  instantly  kill  the  offensive 
odor  of  a  diseased  tooth.  For  such  conditions, 
where  the  quantity  of  deodorant  required  is 
small,  permanganate  is  admirable. 

Cupric  sulphate  (blue  vitriol)  and  lime,  in 
combined  aqueous  mixture,  have  lately  been 
made  the  subject  of  extensive  experimentation.* 
The  report  of  the  experiments  sets  forth  remark- 
able results,  both  in  the  destruction  of  the  larvae 
of  mosquitoes  and  in  general  deodorizing,  obtained 
from  a  preparation  consisting  of  one  pound,  each, 
of  copper  sulphate  and  newly  slaked  lime  in 

*  Dr.  A.  H.  Doty,  Health  Officer  of  the  Port  of  New  York. 

Tlit'  Medical  Record,  January  21,  1905. 


246  Disinfecting 

ten  gallons  of  water  (equivalent  to  a  little  over 
one  and  a  half  ounces,  avoirdupois,  to  the  gal- 
lon). The  reporter,  indeed,  states  that  in  his 
opinion  the  preparation,  as  a  deodorant,  is  "the 
most  valuable  and  practical  agent  we  possess  at 
present  for  this  purpose.  Its  action  as  a  deodor- 
ant is  rapid  and  permanent,  it  is  practically 
harmless,  cheap,  and  easily  made,  and  seems 
to  comply  with  the  requirements  of  a  typical 
deodorant.  Furthermore,  its  range  of  usefulness 
is  extensive,  as  it  can  be  employed  equally  well 
for  deodorizing  solids  or  fluids." 

To  make  the  preparation,  the  copper  salt  is 
first  dissolved  in  a  portion  of  the  water  by  sus- 
pending it  in  a  cotton  or  linen  bag  just  below 
the  surface.  In  this  way,  solution  is  accom- 
plished more  easily  than  by  throwing  the  salt 
bodily  into  the  water.  The  lime  is  slaked  by 
pouring  upon  it,  with  stirring,  the  other  por- 
tion of  the  water.  The  lime  preparation  is  then 
added  gradually  to  the  copper  solution,  with 
constant  stirring.  The  addition  produces  a  pre- 
cipitate, in  which  the  deodorizing  virtues  espe- 
cially reside.  Accordingly  the  mixture  always 
should  be  stirred  well  when  applied.  In  a  well- 
covered  receptacle,  the  preparation  will  keep 
indefinitely.  To  deodorize  solid  masses,  the 
mixture  is  used  in  full  strength,  but  in  operating 
on  liquids  one  part  is  used  to  each  thirty  or 
fifty  of  the  body  of  fluid  under  treatment. 

It  would   then   seem  that   at   last   there   has 


Disinfecting  247 

been  found  'the  ideal  purifying  agent,  cheap, 
harmless,  handy,  thoroughly  efficient,  and  uni- 
versally applicable.  It  remains  to  be  seen  what 
is  the  germicidal  power  of  the  preparation,  but 
the  indications  point  to  a  high  potency  here  also. 

Cupric  sulphate,  or  sulphate  of  copper,  is  in 
beautiful  deep-blue  crystals,  making  a  solution  of 
similar  tint.  The  salt  is  commonly  known  as 
blue  vitriol,  and  must  not  be  confounded  with 
green  vitriol,  which  is  an  iron  sulphate  (ferrous 
sulphate).  The  ancient  name  of  "  copperas ", 
originally  applied  generically  to  the  "  vitriols  " 
(metallic  sulphates  yielding  glassy  crystals),  is 
now  most  confusingly  used  to  designate  the  iron 
and  not  the  copper  sulphate.  The  confusion  is 
worse  confounded  by  the  fact  that  copperas  (fer- 
rous sulphate)  is  itself  a  deodorant  of  no  mean 
power. 

Lime  (calcium  monoxide),  commonly  also 
called  "  quicklime ",  is  a  familiar  substance, 
occurring  in  hard,  white  or  grayish  masses.  On 
exposure  to  air,  lime  greedily  absorbs  moisture 
and  becomes  slaked  lime  (calcium  hydroxide),  a 
soft  bulky  white  powder.  Lime  proper,  or  quick- 
lime, is  by  itself  a  potent  deodorizer,  and  being 
harmless  and  cheap  may  be  used  freely,  in  bulk, 
for  sweetening  the  contents  of  drains,  cesspools, 
and  other  vaults,  etc.  Quicklime  is  the  material 
to  be  used  in  the  above-described  mixture  of 
cupric  sulphate  and  lime.  It  is  to  be  freshly 
slaked  for  the  making  of  the  preparation. 


248  Disinfecting 

Other  disinfectants,  more  or  less  serviceable, 
are,  among  germicides,  a  long  list  of  cousins 
of  carbolic  acid,  and,  among  deodorants,  dry 
earth,  metallic  sulphates,  notably  ferrous  sul- 
phate (copperas),  and  zinc  and  other  chlorides. 

From  this  summary,  the  application  of  the 
commoner  disinfectants  may  thus  be  stated,  in 
review : 

For  true  disinfecting,  that  is,  for  rendering 
innocuous  air  or  articles  bearing  the  infectious 
principle  of  infectious  disease,  thorough  airing 
and  sunning  make  a  method  quite  generally 
applicable  and  efficient  if  it  can  indeed  be  thor-1 
ough.  Boiling  is  efficient  and  is  applicable,  in 
domestic  practice,  where  the  infected  articles 
are  small  enough  to  go  into  the  pot,  and  are  of 
such  kind  as  not  to  be  injured  by  the  process. 
On  the  large  scale,  as  can  be  done  by  the  health 
authorities  of  a  city  in  a  specially  constructed 
plant,  steaming  at  high  heat  in  vacua  is  prej 
eminently  the  method  of  disinfection,  surpassing 
all  others  in  reliability,  since  under  the  condi- 
tions present  the  steam  penetrates  thoroughly 
through  masses  of  substance  such  as  mattresses 
or  bundles  of  clothing.  Certain  specified  articles, 
however,  are  injured  by  the  heat  and  moisture. 
For  the  general  disinfection  of  a  sick-chamber  and 
its  contents  after  vacation  by  the  patient,  for- 
maldehyde gas  is  best,  because  most  efficient 
while  least  injurious  to  fabrics  or  furniture. 


Disinfecting  249 

The  gas  must  be  applied  with  understanding 
of  the  superficiality  of  its  action.  Where  the 
special  apparatus  necessary  for  formaldehyde  is 
not  obtainable,  the  fumes  of  burning  sulphur 
make  a  good  substitute.  For  immediate  disin- 
fection of  soiled  articles  in  the  sick-room,  mer- 
curic chloride  (corrosive  sublimate)  is  thoroughly 
reliable  and  generally  applicable.  Because  of  its 
highly  poisonous  nature,  the  disinfectant  solu- 
tion should  be  in  the  care  of  a  skilled  nurse. 
Solution  of  carbolic  acid  may  be  used  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  the  mercurial,  but  is  hardly  so  effi- 
cient and  offends  by  its  rank  and  penetrating 
odor. 

For  the  decomposition  and  subsequent  deodor- 
izing of  noisome  and  malodorous  matter,  the 
aqueous  mixture  of  cupric  sulphate  (blue  vitriol) 
and  lime  would  appear  to  be  the  most  generally 
applicable  preparation,  being  at  once  highly 
efficient,  inodorous,  innocuous,  and  cheap.  Chlo- 
rinated preparations  are  efficient  but  objection- 
able because  of  their  odor.  Potassium  perman- 
ganate is  instant  and  powerful  of  action,  but  of 
restricted  applicability  by  reason  of  staining  and 
acting  on  metals.  Its  cost  precludes  its  use 
on  the  large  scale. 

A  final  word  as  to  disinfection  is  to  remind 
that  the  true  way  to  be  rid  of  a  nuisance  is  to 
turn  the  offender  out  of  doors,  and  not  to  keep 
him,  whether  locked  up,  tied,  gagged,  or  murdered, 
still  in  the  house.  Disinfection  is  a  makeshift. 


CHAPTER  XI 
EXERCISING   THE   BODY 

There  is  no  Theam  more  plentifull  to  scan, 
Than  is  the  glorious  goodly  Frame  of  Man 

— Du  BARTAS 

Go  to  the  concourse  of  nations  at  any  world's 
fair  and  observe  there  the  children  of  the  wilds — 
our  own  red  man  of  the  plains,  the  Samoan  of 
the  woods,  the  Bedouin  of  the  sands,  or  the 
huge  Patagonian  of  the  rocks  and  wastes.  Note 
the  erect,  free  bearing,  the  steady  eye,  the  clear 
skin,  the  clean  limbs,  the  thin  flanks,  the  quick, 
lithe  movements,  and  the  firm,  elastic  step. 
There  stands  the  splendid  animal  man,  in  the 
glory  of  perfect  physical  development.  When 
your  eye  is  filled  with  the  delight  of  the  picture, 
turn  and  gaze  right  and  left  at  your  fellow 
gazers!  And  "  it  is  to  laugh  ",  or  rather  it  would 
be  were  it  not  also  so  much  to  weep!  For  here, 
edging  its  way  to  the  front,  comes  the  round 
shoulder  overhanging  the  flat  chest  and  the 
scrawny,  shambling  limb,  while  there,  protesting 
the  passage,  looms  solidly  the  huge,  protruding 

paunch. 

250 


Exercising  the  Body  251 

Why  this  contrast  of  picture?  The  answer  is 
simple:  The  children  of  the  wilds  live  close  to 
nature,  after  the  scheme  of  nature's  intending. 
Theirs  is  the  open  sky  with  sun  from  morn  to 
eve,  the  freedom  of  the  free  winds  of  heaven, 
simple  food  and  simpler  drink,  and  also,  and 
especially,  theirs  is  the  life  of  incessant  active 
play  of  muscle  and  sinew. 

For  active  play  of  muscle  during  waking  hours 
is  a  fundamental  feature  of  nature's  scheme  for 
vertebrate  existence,  since  by  such  means  alone 
can  the  wild  animal  get  his  food  and  shun  his 
enemies.  By  muscular  action  not  only  are  the 
muscles  and  joints  themselves  kept  strong  and 
limber,  but  all  the  vital  processes — play  of  heart 
and  lungs,  circulation  of  the  blood,  evolution  of 
body  heat,  assimilation,  nutrition,  secretion,  and 
excretion — all  are  stimulated  to  greater  activity 
and  thoroughness  of  working. 

Now  it  is  a  general  law  of  mechanics  that,  to  be 
kept  in  good  running  order,  a  machine  must  be 
kept  running.  The  wheel  that  turns  not,  clogs 
at  its  bearings;  the  bolt  that  slides  not,  sticks 
in  its  seat.  This  law  is  true  also  of  the  animate 
mechanism — the  living  organism — with  the  added 
feature  that  the  more  the  machine  is  kept  run- 
ning (within  proper  limits),  the  better  developed 
becomes  the  machine  itself. 

Muscular  play,  then,  muscular  play  must  be  a 
regular  item  of  the  daily  life  of  man,  if  man 
would  keep  his  machinery  in  good  running  order. 


252  Exercising  the  Body 

And  nature  here  as  always  is  kind.  Whatsoever 
is  right  and  proper  for  the  better  maintenance  of 
that  mystery,  life,  is  shrewdly  made  enjoyable 
that  it  may  tempt  to  the  doing.  We  are  hungry, 
and  oh,  the  perfume  of  the  orchard!  We  thirst, 
and  ah,  the  babble  of  the  spring!  We  would 
repose,  and  oh  and  ah,  the  soft  silence  of  the 
moss-bank  or  the  slope  of  nodding  grass! 

Even  so,  and  even  so  to  that  artificial  creature, 
civilized  man,  muscular  play  yields  to  its  votaries 
a  delight  of  indulgence.  Not  more  impatiently 
waits  the  hungry  man  for  the  dinner-bell  than 
does  the  tennis-champion  for  the  summons  afield, 
the  rider  for  the  call  to  horse  or  to  wheel. 

Following  nature's  model,  exercise  should, 
above  all  else,  be  out-of-doors,  and  should  imi- 
tate, in  general  character,  the  scrambling,  swing- 
ing, swaying,  and  somersaulting  antics  of  our 
own  arboreal  ancestors  of  the  dim  past.  That  is, 
it  should  be  varied,  calling  into  play  all  muscles 
equally,  should  be  active,  exhilarating,  and 
pleasurable.  Also  it  should,  if  possible,  engage 
the  attention,  thus  exercising  the  faculties  of 
mind  along  with  those  of  body.  To  many,  the 
idea  of  exercise  brings  only  visions  of  the  gym- 
nasium, with  its  dull  tasks  of  dumbbells  and 
parallel  bars  done  heavily  and  monotonously  in 
smelly  air  at  a  place  inconvenient  of  reach. 
The  gymnasium  is  good  enough  in  its  way, 
especially  in  winter  when  outdoor  possibilities 
of  exercise  are  curtailed,  or  where,  for  some 


Exercising  the  Body  253 

special  purpose,  it  is  desirable  to  grow  brawn 
as  a  pig  grows  fat.  But  right  here  comes  up  a 
point  that  is  very  commonly  misunderstood. 
Exercise  develops  muscle,  it  is  true,  but  such 
development  is  a  consequence,  not  the  aim,  of 
the  exercise.  Except  in  a  few  strenuous  occu- 
pations, such  as  baggage-smashing  or  prize- 
fighting, a  big  biceps  is  of  no  special  use,  and 
may,  indeed,  be  a  nuisance  by  interfering  with 
the  proper  movements  of  the  arm.  Unhappy 
Hercules,  that  cannot  reach  to  brush  a  spider 
from  the  back  of  his  neck!  No,  the  purpose  of 
exercise  is  the  quickening  of  the  vital  activities 
through  muscular  play,  in  both  senses  of  the 
word,  and  not  the  mere  building  of  muscle- 
mass  through  muscular  work.  Especially  does 
muscular  play  promote  the  important  function 
of  the  circulation.  This  it  does  in  a  twofold 
way :  first,  by  quickening  and  deepening  the  action 
of  heart  and  lungs,  whereby  the  blood  is  driven 
more  forcibly  down  the  arteries;  and,  secondly, 
by  speeding  the  return  current  through  the 
veins,  by  virtue  of  a  peculiar  anatomical  arrange- 
ment. In  the  veins  of  the  extremities  are 
numerous  valves,  opening  only  in  the  direction 
of  the  blood-flow,  which,  in  the  veins,  is  towards 
the  heart.  When  a  muscle  contracts,  it  presses 
upon  contiguous  veins,  thus  shutting  the  valves 
below  the  area  of  pressure,  and  so  perforce  driving 
the  blood  forward  on  its  way.  Muscular  action 
thus  becomes  a  factor  of  prime  importance  in 


254  Exercising  the  Body 

maintaining  the  venous  circulation  of  the  extremi- 
ties, where  the  blood  must  flow  up-hill.  This 
fact  is  attested  by  the  stagnation  of  circulation 
in  a  moveless  limb,  as  in  the  case  of  one  in  splints 
because  of  a  broken  bone- 

Of  available  active  exercises,  sparring  perhaps 
fulfills  most  nearly  the  theoretical  requirements. 
It  is  a  magnificent  sport,  calling  into  play,  and 
most  actively,  every  muscle  of  the  body  and 
every  faculty  of  the  mind.  Also  it  exercises 
the  keeping  of  one's  temper  under  provocation, 
a  feature  of  genuine  worth.  Its  drawbacks  are, 
first,  its  unpleasant  conspicuousness  if  prac- 
tised out-of-doors;  secondly,  the  difficulty  of 
getting  always  two  well-matched  opponents ;  and 
thirdly,  the  ease  with  which  the  game  becomes 
over-strenuous.  Before  it  is  realized,  the  fun 
waxes  fast  and  furious,  and  severe  exhaustion, 
always  to  be  avoided  in  exercise,  or  an  untoward 
happening  to  eye  or  nose,  results. 

Fencing  closely  resembles  sparring  in  activity 
and  in  the  exercise  of  the  mental  faculties,  and 
has  the  advantage  over  boxing  of  being  suitable 
for  women  as  well  as  for  men.  It  is  a  pity  that 
this  fine  exercise  is  not  more  cultivated  in  America. 
The  drawbacks  are,  first,  that,  as  in  the  case  of 
boxing,  the  game  requires  two  players,  and 
secondly  that  the  muscular  play  is  overmuch 
along  one  set  line  of  motions. 

Next,  and  with  the  enormous  advantage  of 
general  practicability,  comes  the  noble  exercise 


Exercising  the  Body  255 

of  tennis,  a  game  that  cultivates  equally  activity, 
agility,  and  attention.  True  that  it  takes  at 
least  two  to  make  a  game,  but  nearly  every  one 
plays  tennis,  women  as  well  as  men,  so  that, 
given  a  court,  players  will  flock  to  it  as  cer- 
tainly as  will  mosquitoes  to  the  players.  Other 
ball-games,  from  baseball  to  billiards,  have  more 
or  less  of  the  same  general  quality. 

Golf,  though  not  so  active  as  tennis,  yields 
more  exercise  than  one  would  think,  and  is 
especially  valuable  for  those  who,  from  age  or 
other  absorbent  of  spryness,  find  themselves 
unable  to  chase  bouncing  balls  over  a  field  at  a 
faster  pace  than  a  walk. 

Of  exercises  to  be  taken  alone,  horseback 
riding  heads  the  list  for  the  calling  into  play  of 
the  muscles  generally.  Like  all  lonely  exer- 
cises, riding  lacks  the  engaging  of  the  attention 
that  goes  with  games  of  competition,  but  it 
makes  up  for  the  deficit  by  the  glorious  exhila- 
ration of  swift  and  easy  motion  among  the 
smiling  beauties  of  nature.  The  only  draw- 
back is  the  horse — the  horse  that  will  cost,  eat, 
go  lame  and  grow  old,  to  say  nothing  of  stable- 
room  and  care. 

A  formidable  competitor  of  the  horse  is  that 
other  steed,  the  "  Pegasus  of  steel ",  the  steed 
that  stables  in  the  basement-hall,  is  easily 
groomed  by  the  rider  himself,  and  subsists  on  a 
ration  of  one  smear  of  grease  or  graphite  and 
six  drops  of  oil  a  week.  But  with  all  these 


256  Exercising  the  Body 

advantages,  the  horse  of  steel  is  inferior  to  the 
horse  of  flesh  in  one  particular — it  exercisee 
only  the  lower  part  of  the  body. 

A  humble  but  yet  worthy  rival  of  both 
steeds  is  that  other  steed  still,  shanks'  mare. 
Walking  exercises  the  upper  part  of  the  body 
less  than  does  horseback  but  more  than  does 
cycling,  and  is  an  exercise  by  no  means  to  be 
despised.  It  is  cheap,  requires  only  good  shoes 
and  good  legs,  and  is  possible  in  any  place  and 
any  season.  It  lacks  the  exhilaration  of  swift 
motion.  In  city  walking,  wonderful  comfort 
is  given  by  rubber  heels  to  the  shoes.  In  walk- 
ing, the  whole  shock  of  the  step  comes  on  the 
heel,  and  the  rubber  armament  brings  down 
the  hard  jar  of  stone  to  something  like  the 
elastic  spring  of  turf. 

Riding,  cycling,  and  walking  have  in  common 
two  great  advantages  over  games — they  can 
be  practised  alone  and  all  the  year  round,  either 
out-of-doors  or  in  a  rink.  Riding  and  walking 
beat  cycling  in  outdoor  availability,  since,  though 
the  tire  never  tires,  yet  hoof  and  heel  mind  not 
mud. 

Running  is,  intrinsically,  a  fine  exercise,  but 
is  a  hard  one,  taxing  lungs  and  heart  pretty 
severely.  Out-of-doors  it  has  the  disadvantage 
of  exciting  comment  and  dogs. 

Skating,  however,  IA  a  polite  exercise,  and  is 
a  glorious  one,  when  and  where  it  can  be  obtained. 

For    summer  exercising,   rowing    and    paddling 


Exercising  the  Body  257 

hold  place  with  cycling  and  supplement  well 
the  latter,  the  oar  or  paddle  exercising  the  arms 
as  the  wheel  does  the  legs.  Rowing  should  be 
practised  only  by  those  who  know  how,  which 
does  not  mean  every  one  who  can  ply  the  sculls 
without  catching  crabs.  Proper  rowing  shows 
head  erect,  back  straight,  and  shoulders  squared. 
He  who,  at  the  oar,  gives  the  picture  of  a  cobbler 
at  the  awl,  simply  does  not  know  how  to  row. 
For  a  summer  day's  outing  nothing  can  sur- 
pass a  good  ride  awheel,  followed  by  a  good 
turn  at  the  paddle  or  the  oar  and  then  a  swim. 
Swimming,  especially  in  salt  water,  is,  for  the 
fortunate  ones  to  whom  it  is  available,  a  very 
king  of  exercises,  combining  the  virtues  of  the 
cold  bath  with  an  exercise  that  tries  the  muscles 
generally,  and  also,  and  especially,  promotes  deep 
breathing.  Because  of  the  healthfulness  of  open- 
water  bathing,  the  glory  of  the  exercise  and  the 
good  stead  to  be  afforded  in  emergencies,  swim- 
ming is  an  art  that  should  be  taught  and  learned 
as  a  matter  of  duty  by  all,  male  and  female  alike. 
And  childhood  is  preeminently  the  time  for  the 
acquisition  of  the  art.  Few  indeed  are  the 
localities  wjiere  there  is  not  at  least  a  ten-foot- 
wide  still  pool  in  some  brook,  where  the  parent 
can  instruct  his  little  one  in  the  frog-like  ways 
of  his  own  long  bygone  amphibian  ancestor.  A 
child  who  never  has  been  frightened  of  the  water 
by  wicked  forcing  or  ducking  will  take  to  immer- 
sion naturally,  and  easily  can  be  taught  to  swim. 


258  Exercising  the  Body 

If  there  is  at  hand  a  bridge  or  a  pier  reaching 
out  into  water  deep  enough,  an  excellent  plan 
is  to  suspend  the  little  pupil  by  a  line  held  by 
the  teacher  above.  The  line  should  have  a 
noose  at  the  end  with  a  stop-knot  on  the  body 
of  the  line  at  the  proper  place  so  that  the  noose 
may  encircle  the  child  under  the  arms  without 
binding.  The  teacher  then,  holding  the  child 
in  the  water  by  the  line,  walks  along  with  it 
as  it  paddles,  and  directs  the  movements.  The 
line  does  not  interfere  in  the  least  with  the 
swimming  motions,  and  the  child,  confident  of 
support,  strikes  out  freely.  Then  gradually  the 
stroke  gains  power,  and  the  teacher  slacks  the 
hold  to  correspond,  till  soon,  without  knowing  it, 
the  little  dangling  spider  is  supporting  itself— 
has  learned  the  never-to-be-forgotten  art  of 
swimming. 

Lastly,  there  is  an  exercise  that  is  unique.  This 
exercise  lacks  utterly  both  the  engaging  of  atten  - 
tion  and  the  exhilaration  of  swift  motion.  Yet  it 
has  invaluable  qualities.  First,  it  costs  nothing,  is 
available  for  all  ages  and  both  sexes,  and  is  pos- 
sible for  all  seasons  and  weathers.  Secondly,  it  is 
elastic  and  adaptable,  and  can  be  made  to  sup- 
plement the  deficiencies  of  other  exercises,  no- 
tably to  exercise  especially  breathing  and  the 
abdominal  muscles,  of  which  more  anon.  The 
exercise  is  daily  morning  or  morning  and  eve- 
ning home-gymnastics  for  ten  or  twenty  minutes 
(according  to  perseverance,  endurance,  and  the 


Exercising  the  Body  259 

endurance  of  perseverance)  with  the  arms,  legs, 
and  lungs  of  the  exerciser  for  apparatus.  Yes, 
even  so  short  a  sitting — that  is,  standing — as 
ten  minutes  a  day  at  such  exercise  will  accom- 
plish substantial  good, — ten  minutes  easily  to 
be  spared  by  man  from  money-getting  and  by 
woman  from  money-spending  for  investment  in 
bright  eyes,  clear  skin,  full  chest,  lithe  limbs, 
supple  joints,  and  a  splendid  appetite  for  break- 
fast! 

For  home-gymnastics,  apparatus  may  be  used 
if  desired,  according  to  convenience  and  taste — 
light  dumb-bells,  Indian  clubs,  spring  or  weight- 
pulls,  etc.,  but  also  perfectly  effective  work  can 
be  done  without  any  appliances,  by  simple 
rhythmic  movements  of  body  and  limbs  in  vari- 
ous directions,  and  by  making  opponent  muscles 
to  bear  against  one  another,  as  by  putting  ex- 
tensors under  strain  when  contracting  flexors, 
and  vice  versa.  And  for  special  exercising  of 
breathing  and  of  the  abdominal  muscles,  cer- 
tain movements  without  the  use  of  apparatus 
are  especially  fit.  A  working  list  of  movement  - 
exercises  on  which  to  ring  the  changes  will  be 
found  at  the  end  of  the  chapter,  but  also  the 
gymnast  can  amuse  himself  by  inventing  new 
ones.  So  long  as  unnatural  and  straining  move- 
ments are  avoided,  no  harm  will  result  from  a 
full  exercise  of  ingenuity  as  well  as  of  muscle. 
Twenty  times  is  enough  practice  for  any  single 
motion. 


260  Exercising  the  Body 

A  special  advantage  of  home -gymnastics  is  that 
the  exercising  can  be  private,  and  accordingly 
can  be  done  with  the  gymnast  in  the  garb  of 
Adam,  in  which  simple  attire  muscular  move- 
ments can  be  made  with  perfection  of  ease  and 
freedom. 

In  general,  as  common  sense  dictates,  exer- 
cise never  should  be  carried  to  the  point  of 
fatigue,  nor  should  those  exercises  that  are 
intrinsically  severe  be  undertaken  by  the  deli- 
cate or  the  elderly.  Nothing  "  blows  "  like 
running,  wherefore  running  and  games  requir- 
ing running,  such  as  ball-playing,  should  be 
shunned  by  the  weak-hearted  and  the  white- 
whiskered.  Too  much  or  improper  exercise  is 
worse  than  too  little:  too  little  negatively 
deprives  of  benefit,  too  much  may  do  positive 
harm  for  life,  as  by  producing  enlargement  of 
the  heart  or  other  organic  disease.  Valuable 
lives  have  been  lost  in  just  this  way. 

When,  for  any  reason,  exercise  cannot  or  must 
not  be  taken,  much  of  its  benefit  can  still  be 
obtained  by  having  it  practised  by  another 
vicariously — in  short,  by  massage.  One  who  has, 
with  his  own  eyes,  seen  the  effects  of  massage, 
and  has,  in  his  own  person,  experienced  its  de- 
lights, hesitates  to  write  of  it  for  fear  of  seeming 
to  indulge  in  hyperbole.  Not  only  does  mas- 
sage effect  remarkable  cures,  in  certain  condi- 
tions of  disease  or  of  local  disability,  but  it  is, 
in  general,  an  agent  of  great  efficiency  to  relieve 


Exercising  the  Body  261 

from  fatigue,  to  promote  sleep,  and  to  maintain 
and  restore  muscular  power  and  activity. 

Massage  is  more  than  mere  rubbing.  It  em- 
braces also  kneading,  percussion,  and  move- 
ments, passive,  assistant,  or  resistant — embraces 
what  is  called  the  "  Swedish  movement  cure  " 
as  well  as  massage,  in  the  restricted  sense  of 
the  word.  Being  a  matter  of  manipulation,  it 
cannot  be  taught  by  description.  One  duly 
instructed  should  alone  be  employed  for  its 
practice.  Properly  done,  massage  is  incapable 
of  harm. 

A  special  need  for  exercise  comes  about  as  a 
consequence  of  man's  unique  vertebrate  pecu- 
liarity— the  peculiarity  of  standing  with  the 
body  upright,  balanced  on  the  nether  limbs  only. 
Now  while,  in  his  evolution,  man  has  come  to 
differ  profoundly  from  his  fellow  vertebrates 
as  to  head  and  limbs,  yet  as  to  trunk  he  holds 
still  and  fairly  closely  to  the  type  of  the  four- 
footed  animal.  Nevertheless,  when  we  com- 
pare the  carriage  of  body  of  the  average  sedentary 
"  lord  of  creation  "  with  that  of  his  dumb  cousins 
of  the  fields,  we  are  struck  by  a  singular  differ- 
ence. The  trunk  of  the  animal  gives  always  the 
showing  seen  so  markedly  in  the  case  of  the  grey- 
hound— a  well-rounded,  protuberant  chest  sloping 
inward  to  a  flat  and  sunken  lower  body — while  the 
figure  of  sedentary  man,  more  commonly  than  not, 
presents  an  aspect  precisely  the  reverse.  Then, 


262  Exercising  the  Body 

again,  the  animal  may  be  seen  to  breathe  by  ex- 
panding the  rounded  chest  and  still  further  flat- 
tening the  sunken  flanks,  while  the  picture  of 
man's  respiration  is  just  the  opposite. 

Which  is  the  better  carriage,  which  the  better 
way  to  breathe?  The  following  facts  make 
answer  and  in  no  uncertain  tone: 

In  the  first  place,  the  scheme  of  the  vertebrate 
structure  was  evolved  originally  as  a  system 
for  a  horizontally  held  trunk,  as  in  the  case 
of  all  fishes,  reptiles,  and  birds,  and  of  all  mam- 
mals before  the  comparatively  recent  coming 
of  the  anthropoid  ape  and  man.  Such  general 
carriage  of  body,  then,  as  may  be  natural  for 
the  horizontal  trunk  must  be  held  to  be  the 
typical  carriage  for  the  vertebrate  as  a  vertebrate. 

Secondly,  the  erect  animal  can  with  very  little 
trouble  hold  himself  and  breathe  after  the  fashion 
of  the  four-foot,  but  the  latter  cannot,  while 
horizontal,  imitate  the  acquired  ways  of  his  up- 
right master  except  by  an  unnatural  effort.  For 
let  any  one  make  the  experiment  of  converting 
his  own  self,  for  the  moment,  into  a  four-footed 
animal.  Let  him  move  about,  on  a  bed,  on  his 
hands  and  knees.  Instantly  he  will  notice  that, 
as  he  progresses  in  imitation  of  an  animal's 
walk,  involuntarily  he  throws  out  the  chest  and 
retracts  the  abdomen,  and  breathes  mainly  by 
expanding  the  thorax.  He  will  observe,  in 
short,  that  he  is  bearing  himself  exactly  as 
does  the  natural  four-footer,  and  that  he  does 


Exercising  the  Body  263 

so  because,  under  the  circumstances  of  the 
attitude,  he  cannot  do  otherwise  without  a 
strain. 

Thirdly,  those  examples  of  the  erect  verte- 
brate that  are  best  developed  physically — ex- 
amples of  athletic  man — themselves  instinctively 
adopt  the  carriage  and  style  of  breathing  of 
the  four-footed  animal. 

Fourthly  and  most  cogently,  the  more  markedly 
the  erect  animal  reverses  the  methods  of  the 
horizontal  in  the  matter  of  the  holding  of  the 
figure  and  of  breathing,  the  more  surely  does 
he  bring  down  upon  himself  physical  woes 
unknown  to  the  happy  horizontalian.  Under 
the  vice  of 'a  faulty  carriage  and  shallow,  dia- 
phragmatic breathing,  the  shoulders  tend  to 
droop,  the  unexpanded  chest  to  flatten  and  the 
disused  muscles  that  line  the  wall  of  the  abdo- 
men to  degenerate,  weaken,  and  relax.  As  an 
inevitable  result,  the  lower  body,  deprived  of 
its  natural  support  by  action  of  its  own  muscles, 
.tends  to  give  way  under  the  downward  pressure 
of  its  sagging  contents,  whence  result,  in  turn, 
mechanically-derived  afflictions  for  man  and 
woman  practically  impossible  for  the  horizontal 
animal.  Also,  if  there  is  a  tendency  to  cor- 
pulence, the  growth  is  along  the  lines  of  least 
resistance,  which  is  under  the  weakened  abdom- 
inal walls,  producing  the  deformity  of  protru- 
sion, so  common  to  be  seen  in  sedentary  men  and 
women  past  middle  life. 


264  Exercising  the  Body 

The  proper  carriage  of  the  body  for  man  is, 
then,  most  indubitably  that  of  the  Greek  statues, 
namely,  back  straight,  head  erect,  shoulders 
squared,  chest  expanded,  and  lower  body  flat- 
tened by  inward  pressure  of  its  own  muscles. 
And  proper  breathing  is  by  a  general  expansion, 
primarily  of  the  chest  and  secondarily  of  the 
abdomen,  instead  of  by  the  common  but  vicious 
method  of  simply  forcing  down  the  diaphragm 
while  the  chest  is  hardly  moved  at  all.  Expan- 
sion of  the  chest,  by  the  very  act,  puts  the 
abdominal  muscles  under  stress,  so  that,  in 
proper  breathing,  downward  pressure  of  the 
diaphragm  is  met  by  tension  of  the  abdominal 
walls.  Sagging  is  thereby  forestalled  and  at 
the  same  time  the  abdominal  contents  undergo 
a  gentle  massage,  to  their  benefit. 

Such  carriage  and  such  style  of  breathing 
should  be  acquired  as  a  habit.  To  fix  and  main- 
tain the  habit,  let  be  practised  those  move- 
ment-gymnastics listed  at  the  end  of  the  chapter 
as  especially  exercising  the  function  of  breath- 
ing and  the  abdominal  muscles  generally.  Also 
let  the  subject  practise  at  any  and  all  times  of 
the  day,  as  often  as  he  please  and  the  oftener 
the  better,  the  simple  act  of  drawing  long,  slow, 
deep  breaths,  through  the  nose,  of  course,  by 
the  procedure  above  described. 

No  respiration,  no  matter  how  deep,  fully 
changes  the  air  within  the  chest.  The  newly- 
drawn  air  mixes  with  the  residual  air  in  the 


Exercising  the  Body  265 

lungs  by  diffusion,  exactly  as  an  incoming  tide 
in  a  landlocked  bay  mingles  its  waters  with 
what  has  been  left  by  the  ebb.  But  in  the 
shallowness  of  diaphragmatic  respiration  there 
is  always  an  unduly  large  body  of  residual  air, 
especially  in  the  far-off  corners  of  the  lungs, 
such  as  the  apices  (just  where  consumption  finds 
its  best  breeding-ground),  with  resulting  ten- 
dency to  stagnation.  Deep  breathing,  then,  is 
of  an  especial  value  in  flushing  out  these  hiding- 
places  of  possible  disease.  In  the  forced  breath- 
ing required  during  exercise,  both  methods  are 
instinctively  practised  at  once  in  order  to  get 
all  the  air  possible.  So  the  panting  animal, 
expanding  the  chest  to  the  utmost,  takes  quick 
breaths  by  active  play  of  the  diaphragm. 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  extol  too  highly  the 
benefits  of  the  habit  of  body  formed  by  cor- 
rect breathing.  Proper  holding  of  the  person 
and  proper  style  of  breathing  underlie  all  physical 
development  and  form  the  basis  of  every  true 
system  of  physical  training.  Correct  carriage 
quickens  digestion  markedly,  gives  good  "  wind  " 
and  unspeakable  ease  and  freedom  of  movement. 
Furthermore,  it  prevents  and  will  greatly  help 
to  cure  the  deformity  of  a  protruding  paunch. 

In  cases  of  this  same  deformity,  overeating 
and  sedentary  habits  commonly  are  factors  as 
well  as  faulty  bearing  of  body.  For  cure,  let 
the  subject  follow  faithfully  this  regime:  first, 
temperance  in  eating,  as  set  forth  in  the  second 


266  Exercising  the  Body 

• 
chapter,    although    ordinarily    no    restriction    of 

individual  foods  is  necessary,  and  fats  need  not 
be  barred.  Secondly,  active  outdoor  exercise, 
and  for  the  purpose  in  hand  nothing  is  better 
than  cycling.  Thirdly,  daily  massage  of  the 
abdomen  for  ten  minutes.  After  a  lesson  or  two 
from  an  expert,  the  subject  can  perfectly  well 
do  the  massaging  himself.  Fourthly,  and  most 
important,  determined  cultivation  of  the  habit 
of  correct  carriage  and  breathing,  and  exercise 
of  the  abdominal  muscles.  And  of  these  exer- 
cises, number  nine  on  the  list  at  the  end  of  the 
chapter  is  especially  efficacious,  as  the  sore- 
ness of  the  abdominal  muscles  after  the  first  few 
essays  will  distinctly  demonstrate.  By  this  re- 
gime, if  faithfully  carried  out,  it  is  possible  in  a 
surprisingly  short  time  quite  to  change  the  fig- 
ure of  a  Silenus  into  one  of  an  Apollo. 

A  chapter  on  exercise  would  be  incomplete 
without  some  notice,  though  really  they  deserve 
none,  of  two  commonly  given  reasons  for  refusing 
the  cult  of  the  muscle.  The  first  is,  "  I  haven't 
the  time  for  exercise."  Let  one  who  gives  this 
excuse  for  physical  sloth  answer,  and  candidly, 
this  simple  question :  Do  you  like  exercise  ?  The 
reply  almost  certainly  will  be,  "Well,  I  don't 
know;  I  never  have  tried  it  systematically." 
Exactly  so;  take  time,  then,  to  try  it;  trying 
it,  you  will  learn  to  love  it ;  loving  it,  you  will 
make  time  to  practise  it! 


Exercising  the  Body  267 

The  other  excuse  is  that  ancient  and  strange 
delusion  that  there  is  something  inherently 
incompatible  between  brain  and  muscle,  such 
that  the  one  cannot  fully  be  developed  but  at 
the  expense  of  the  other;  that  large  intellectu- 
ality does  not  and  cannot  go  with  powerful  frame 
and  muscular  activity,  and  accordingly  that  there 
are  the  two  types  of  man,  the  thinker,  with  big 
head  and  little  body,  and  the  thug,  with  big 
body  and  little  head. 

Such  silly  talk  is  about  on  a  level  with  that 
which  avers  solemnly  that  fish  is  "  brain-food  " 
because  it  contains  phosphrous,  that  egg  is 
"  bilious  "  because  its  yolk  is  yellow,  and  that 
if  a  dog  bite  a  boy,  dog  must  die,  since  other- 
wise, if  at  any  time  dog  should  go  mad,  boy 
would  go  mad  too! 

There  is  but  one  body,  in  the  full  sense  of 
the  word,  and  of  this  body  the  head  is  simply 
one  of  many  parts,  all  of  which  are  fed  by  the 
same  blood,  driven  by  the  same  pump  through 
the  one  set  of  pipes.  One  part  is  nourished 
when  all  are  nourished;  starved  when  all  are 
starved.  As  already  shown,  active  muscular 
play  is  an  important  factor  in  maintaining  good 
running  order  for  the  whole  machinery  of  the 
system,  and  by  this  good  condition  brain  and 
brawn  profit  alike. 

Mens  sana  in  cor  pore  sano.  The  adage  is  as 
sound  as  the  soundness  it  preaches,  and  of  its 
truth  examples  teem.  Let  two  out  of  our  own 


268  Exercising  the  Body 

history  suffice.  Probably  no  more  striking  in- 
stances are  on  record  of  large  intellectual  grasp — 
of  true  mental  vigor — of  brains  that  were  per- 
fect thinking  machines,  running  ever  smooth 
and  true,  than  in  the  case  of  the  two  fathers  of 
our  country,  Washington  and  Lincoln.  And  the 
bodies  that  carried  these  great  minds,  were  they 
after  the  type  of  the  weazen  bookworm  who 
never  leaves  his  study  but  for  a  short  saunter? 
Rather  to  the  contrary,  Washington  stood  six 
feet  three  and  Lincoln  six  feet  four;  both  were 
redoubtable  athletes  in  their  youth,  and  both 
brought  to  the  strain  that  was  to  try  men's 
souls,  frames  of  iron,  big  of  bone  and  well 
nourished  alike  in  muscle  and  in  brain.* 

WORKING  LIST  OF  MOVEMENT-EXERCISES 
FOR  HOME-GYMNASTICS 

These  exercises  may  be  done  from  ten  to  twenty 
times,  each,  most  conveniently  while  stripped,  either 
just  before  or  just  after  the  morning  bath.  Five  or 
six  of  the  movements,  selected,  will  make  a  morning 
exercise. 

Many  of  the  movements  listed  are  the  invention  of 

*  It  was  the  lot  of  the  writer  to  be  one  of  the  two  army 
surgeons  detailed  to  make  the  autopsy  on  the  body  of  the 
martyr  president,  and  he  can  testify  of  his  own  observation 
to  the  powerful  muscular  development  and  perfect  physical 
condition  of  the  lamented  dead  at  the  time  of  the  "deep 
damnation  of  his  taking  off."  The  tall  figure  on  horse- 
back was  a  familiar  sight  in  Washington,  as  Mr.  Lincoln 
would  take  his  daily  ride.  . 


Exercising  the  Body  269 

Mr.  Edwin    Checkley,  the  physical-culturist,  to  whom 
indebtedness  is  acknowledged  for  their  suggestion.* 

Slow,  exercising  breathing  and  the  abdominal  muscles: 

Standing:  (i)  Hands  clasped  over  lower  abdomen: 
exhale,  then  inhale  slowly  and  fully  by  expanding  the 
chest,  at  same  time  pressing  inward  and  upward  with 
hands.  When  lungs  are  filled,  bow  forward,  bending 
from  hips  only,  back  and  knees  kept  stiff.  Recover, 
exhaling  slowly  but  without  relaxing  hold  of  hands. 

(2)  Arms   akimbo:    exhale,  then    fill  the  lungs  and 
exhale  by  a  series  of  sharp,  sniffing  jerks. 

(3)  Arms    at    side,    palms    in:     exhale,    then    swing 
arms  stiffly  outward  and  upward  till  the  backs  of  the 
hands  tap  overhead,  inhaling  deeply  the  while  by  ex- 
panding chest.     Recover,  exhaling. 

(4)  Arms  at  side,  palms  back:    exhale,  then  swing 
arms  stiffly  forward,   upward  and  overhead,   inhaling. 
Recover,  exhaling. 

(5)  Same,    but   recover   by   swinging   arms   outward 
and  downward,  palms  out  and  down. 

(6)  Hands  over   breasts:    exhale,   then   shoot   arms 
forward,    palms   down,    and   then   swing   outward   and 
slightly   downward,    palms   down   and   out,    swimming 
stroke,  inhaling.     Recover,  exhaling. 

(7)  Arms  overhead,  thumbs  locked:    swing  arms  and 
body   as   one   system   forward   and   downward,    knees 
stiff,   till  fingers  tap  floor  or  shins   (according  to  age 
and  stiffness  of  subject),  exhaling  strongly.     Recover, 
inhaling  deeply  by  expanding  chest. 

Lying  supine:  (8)  Arms  down  over  body,  palms  in, 
thumbs  locked:  exhale,  then  swing  arms  stiffly  up- 
ward and  over  till  finger-tips  tap  floor  overhead,  in- 
haling. Recover,  exhaling. 

*  A  Natural  Method  of  Physical  Training.  By  Edwin 
Checkley.  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  Wm.  C.  Bryant  and' Co.,  1895. 


2/o  Exercising  the  Body 

(9)  Same  position,  but  with  toes  braced  under  heavy 
piece  of  furniture:  swing  arms  overhead  same  way, 
but  in  the  recover,  upheave  bod}''  (by  the  purchase  of 
the  toes),  reaching  forward  till  the  finger-tips  tap  the 
shins.  (Severe  at  first;  practise  a  few  times  only  at 
the  beginning.) 

Lying  prone:  (10)  Palms  spread  on  floor  by  shoulders : 
straighten  arms,  thereby  upraising  body,  supported 
straight  and  stiff  from  hands  and  toes.  Recover. 
(Severe  at  first;  practise  a  few  times  only  at  the  begin- 
ning.) 

Sitting  upright:  (n)  Arms  folded  behind  back:  bow 
forward  till  body  presses  thighs,  exhaling.  Recover, 
inhaling. 

Slow,  exercising  neck  and  trunk: 

Standing:  (12)  Arms  akimbo:  bow  head  strongly 
forward,  then  backward. 

(13)  Same:   bow  head  and  body  as  one  system,  from 
hips  up. 

(14)  Same:    revolve  head  sideways   (motion  in  azi- 
muth), first  one  way,  then  the  other. 

(15)  Same:    similarly  revolve  head  and  body  as  one 
system,  as  if  pivoted  at  hips. 

(16)  Arms  at  side,  palms  in:   hunch  shoulders  up  and 
down,  together. 

(17)  Same:  hunch  alternately. 

(18)  Same:  work    shoulders    together    forward    and 
backward. 

(19)  Back  to  wall,  arms  to  side,  palms  in:  move  head 
forward  and  back,  face  forward,  shoulders  held  to  wall. 

(20)  Same:    work  head  from  side  to  side,   keeping 
face  forward  and  straight. 

(21)  Arms  extended  outward,  palms  forward:    bend 
body  strongly  to  left,  left  arm  rigid,  right  arm  incurving 
till  thumb  taps  top  of  head.     Recover  and  repeat  on 
other  side. 


Exercising  the  Body  271 

(22)  One    arm    extended    straight    outward,    a    few 
inches   from   a  wall:    lean   sideways  till   fingers  bring 
up   against   wall.     Recover   and   move    away   an   inch 
or  so:    repeat,  again  moving  further  off,  and  continue 
repetitions  till  limit  of  distance  is  reached.     Turn  and 
repeat  series  on  other  side. 

(23)  Arms  extended  outward,  palms  forward:    twist 
body    sideways,  first  one  way,  then  the   other,  main- 
taining relation  of  arms  to  shoulder  (motion  in  azimuth). 
This  may  be  done  also  with  a  rod,  such  as  a  broom- 
stick, held  across  the  shoulders  to  insure  correct  posi- 
tion of  the  arms. 

(24)  Same,    but    when    one    arm    straight    forward, 
swing  body   over   and   forward,   flexing   forward   knee 
only,    till    finger-tips    touch    floor    between    the    feet. 
Recover,  sway  in  other  direction  and  swing  down  with 
other  arm. 

(25)  Arms  to  side:   keeping  one  leg  stiff,  flex  slightly 
the  other  knee  and  let  sink  the  body  somewhat  fro.n 
the  hip-joint  of  the  straight  leg.     Recover  and  repeat 
on  other  side. 

Quick,  exercising  arms: 

Standing:  (26)  Arms  to  side,  palms  in:  bend  one 
arm  sharply  at  elbow,  bring  thumb  to  shoulder,  then 
shoot  the  arm  quickly  upward.  Reverse  motions,  then 
repeat  with  other  arm.  (This  exercise  may  also  be 
done  holding  a  light  dumb-bell.) 

(27)  Arms  extended  outward,  palms  up:    bend  from 
elbow    sharply    inward    till    finger-tips    tap    shoulders. 
Recover.     (This  exercise  may  also  be  done  holding  a 
light  dumb-bell.) 

(28)  Arms   extended    outward,    palms    up:     revolve 
both  arms,  held  stiff,  through  a  small  vertical  circle, 
from  the  shoulder  as  a  pivot. 

(29)  Same:  revolve  through  a  large  circle. 


272  Exercising  the  Body 

Quick,  exercising  legs: 

Standing:  (30)  Body  steadied  by  right  hand  against 
a  wall,  draw  up  right  leg,  then  kick  strongly  downward 
and  slightly  outward  a  number  of  times.  Turning, 
repeat  with  other  leg. 

(31)  Arms    downward     and    backward,     palms     in: 
rise  on  balls  of  feet,  swing  arms  downward  and  for- 
ward,   at    same    time    sinking   down   fully,    till   thighs 
meet  calves,  keeping  body  upright.     Recover,  reversing 
motions. 

(32)  Same,  but  when  down,  hop  from  balls  of  both 
feet  at  once  a  number  of  times.     (Severe  at  first  and 
difficult;    practise  a  few  times  only  at  the  beginning.) 

(33)  Arms  at  side:    lift  one  leg,  bending  at  hip  and 
knee,  as  high  as  can  be  done  without  bending  back. 
Recover  and  repeat  with  other  leg. 

(34)  Arms   at   side,   palms   in,   one  foot  before  the 
other,  length  of  a  short  step:    rising  on  balls  of  feet, 
spring   upward   from   both   feet    at   once   and   reverse 
quickly  the  relative  position  of  the  feet,  while  in  the 
air,  swinging  the  arms  naturally,  as  in  walking. 

Lying  supine:  (35)  Hands  clasped  behind  head: 
swing  both  legs  upward  as  far  as  possible,  holding 
knees  stiff.  Recover. 

(36)  Same:  work  imaginary  treadle  in  the  air  with 
the  feet. 

Quick,  exercising  arms  and  legs: 

Standing:  (37)  Arms  at  side,  palms  in:  rise  on  toes, 
at  same  time  swinging  arms  forward  and  upward  till 
palms  clap  in  front:  then  sink  back  on  heels,  swinging 
arms  strongly  outward  and  backward.  Repeat  from 
this  position. 

(38)  Elbows  at  side,  hands  up,  palms  in:  rise  on 
toes,  shooting  arms  straight  forward:  then  sink  back 
on  heels,  swinging  arms  strongly  downward  and  back- 
ward. Recover. 


Exercising  the  Body  273 

(39)  Left    arm    at    side,   palm  forward;    right    arm, 
elbow  at  side,  hand  up,  palm  forward:   side-step  sharply 
on  right  foot,  bending  knee,  and  lunge  to  right  with 
right    arm,    swinging   left    hand     up    till    thumb    taps 
shoulder.     Recover   and  repeat  on  other  side.     (Imi- 
tation of  the  lunge  in  fencing:    the  exercise  may  be 
done  also  holding  a  wand  or  foil  in  the  lunging  hand.) 

(40)  Same:    continue  the  lunge  over  and  downward 
till  finger-tips  touch  the  toes  of  the  advanced  foot. 

NOTE. — This  list  by  no  means  exhausts  the  possibilities  of 
movements,  and  the  gymnast  can  himself  devise  others. 


CHAPTER  XII 
EXERCISING   THE   MIND 

The  power  of  Thought, — the  magic  of  the  Mind! 

— BYRON 

They  are  never  alone  that  are  accompanied  with  noble 

thoughts 

— SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY 

Health  and  cheerfulness  mutually  beget  each  other 

— ADDISON 

IT  is  the  train-shed  of  the  Pennsylvania  Rail- 
road station  in  Jersey  City,  in  the  olden  time, 
before  the  invention  of  the  enclosed  pen  and 
the  ticket-puncher.  Passengers  are  admitted 
freely,  to  find  their  train  for  themselves  by 
directions  addressed  to  eye  and  ear  both.  At 
the  far  end  of  the  platform,  conspicuously  dis- 
played beside  a  long  train  of  heavy  cars,  appears 
a  huge  signboard  in  black  and  white,  beside 
which  stands  an  equally  huge  porter,  in  black 
only,  clanging  vigorously  a  huge  bell.  "  THIS 
TRAIN  FOR  BALTIMORE  AND  WASHINGTON  "  star- 
ingly  proclaims  the  sign,  and  "  THIS  TRAIN  FOR 
BALTIMORE  AND  WASHINGTON  "  thunderously 
announces  Stentor  Africanus  in  three-second 
explosions.  A  little  old  woman,  with  distrac- 

274 


Exercising  the  Mind  275 

tion  lined  upon  her  simple  face,  draws  near. 
Ding-dong,  ding-dong,  ding-dong,  "  THIS  TRAIN 
FOR  BALTIMORE  AND—  Stentor  stops,  for  his 
sleeve  is  plucked  nervously.  "  Well,  mum?" 
"  If  you  please,  which  train  do  I  take  for  Balti- 
more?" * 

What  is  the  matter  here?  Is  the  subject  blind 
and  deaf?  Not  at  all:  eye  and  ear  both  have 
done  their  duty;  have  received  their  respective 
impressions,  and  have  duly  telegraphed  them 
to  headquarters.  At  headquarters  has  been  the 
fault ;  the  brain  has  not  taken  cognizance  of  the 
messages  laid  at  its  door.  In  simple  language, 
the  poor  old  woman  has  seen  and  heard,  but  has 
not  perceived.  She  is  one  of  those  whose  lives 
are  spent  in  a  dull  routine — in  her  case,  of  broom 
and  suds  and  bake-oven,  where  new  experi- 
ences are  rare,  and,  therefore,  the  call  for  original 
observation  infrequent.  Following  the  law,  then, 
that  an  unpractised  function  lapses,  in  cases 
such  as  this  the  faculty  of  critical  observation 
is  in  abeyance,  so  that  when  comes  a  new  experi- 
ence, the  mind  is  helpless,  and  must  needs  be 
"  personally  conducted  "  through  the  issue. 

Compare  now  the  following  experience  of 
Parkman's,  as  told  by  that  historian  in  "  The 
Oregon  Trail": 

"  The  Indian  had  brought  with  him  his  pipe, 
so,  before  lying  down  to  sleep,  we  sat  for  some 

*  A  true  incident  in  the  experience  of  the  writer. 


276  Exercising  the  Mind 

time  smoking  together.  Previously,  however, 
our  wide-mouthed  friend  had  taken  the  precau- 
tion of  carefully  examining  the  neighborhood. 
He  reported  that  eight  men,  counting  them  on 
his  fingers,  had  been  encamped  there  not  long 
before,  Bisonette,  Paul  Dorion,  Antoine  Le 
Rouge,  Richardson,  and  four  others,  whose 
names  he  could  not  tell.  All  this  proved  strictly 
correct.  By  what  instinct  hie  had  arrived  at 
such  accurate  conclusions,  I  am  utterly  at  a 
loss  to  divine." 

These  two  experiences  show  a  faculty  that 
by  disuse  can  dwindle  until  it  almost  wholly 
disappears,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  by  cultiva- 
tion can  be  developed  to  yield  results  that  seem 
little  short  of  miraculous.  The  faculty  is  per- 
ception— the  taking  cognizance  by  the  brain 
of  impressions  received  from  the  sense-organs. 
The  exercise  of  the  faculty,  when  it  is  exercised, 
follows  so  immediately  and  automatically  upon 
the  receipt  of  the  sense-impression,  that  the 
seeing  or  hearing  and  the  perceiving  seem  as 
but  one  act.  But  that  the  two  are  separate  is 
shown  plainly  by  the  fact  that  the  mind,  when 
deeply  engaged,  takes  no  heed  of  what  eye  or 
ear  may  communicate.  When  intently  busy,  we 
neither  see  the  new-come  visitor  nor  hear  his 
greeting,  and  the  absent-minded  professor  will 
even  essay  to  cross  a  railroad  track  directly  in 
the  face  of  an  onrushing,  roaring  train.  That 
the  perceiving  faculty  lies  wholly  within  the 
brain — is  purely  mental — is  demonstrated  also 


Exercising  the  Mind  277 

by  the  significant  fact,  stated  to  be  shown  by 
experimental  testing,  that  in  the  savage,  whose 
sight  and  hearing  seem  so  marvellously  acute, 
the  sense-organs  are  really  not  a  whit  better 
than  those  of  the  civilized  man,  the  acumen 
being  in  the  perceiving,  not  in  the  actual  seeing 
or  hearing. 

Minds  differ  in  natural  quickness  and  keenness 
of  perception.  There  are  the  bright  boy  and  the 
dull,  the  quick-witted  girl  and  the  stupid.  But 
also,  as  shown  in  the  case  of  the  Indian,  the 
faculty  is  wonderfully  susceptible  of  cultivation. 
Let,  then,  those  in  whom  it  is  poorly  developed, 
whether  from  deficient  natural  endowment  or 
from  lack  of  early  training,  take  heart  and  take 
advice.  Let  them  decline  longer  to  be  person- 
ally conducted  through  life,  and  rely  on  their 
own  observation  to  find  the  train  for  Baltimore, 
and  the  shady  side  of  the  car!  So  by  exercise 
of  perception,  perception  will  come. 

Childhood  is  preeminently  the  time  for  train- 
ing the  mind,  since  at  that  period  mind,  like 
body,  is  plastic  and  easily  moulded  into  proper 
form.  Mental  training  is  first  and  last  the  pur- 
pose of  early  schooling,  and  the  training  of  per- 
ception and  close  observation  afforded  by  the 
critical  study  of  language  and  of  numbers  is  an 
invaluable  function  of  the  hated  school-drill  in 
Latin,  Greek,  and  the  mathematics.  The  future 
man  may  have  small  call,  in  his  business,  for 
the  ablative  case,  the  rough  breathing,  or  the 


278  Exercising  the  Mind 

minus  sign,  but  he  will  find  use  every  day  and 
all  the  day  for  the  habit  of  precision  gained 
by  observing  that  musd  is  quite  another  thing 
from  musa;  that  ?/  is  not  %,  and  that  a2  —  2ab  +b2 
may  be  as  tremendously  different  from  a2  +  2ab  +  b2 
as  is  nothing  from  anything  at  all! 

The  importance  of  a  habit  of  critical  obser- 
vation can  hardly  be  overestimated.  Percep- 
tion underlies  all  operations  of  the  mind,  as 
arithmetic  underlies  all  mathematics;  and  the 
faculty,  when  well  developed,  gives  its  possessor 
a  wonderful  power  and  pleasure,  both.  To  such 
a  one,  inanimate  things  tell  their  story  as  well 
as  the  tongued,  speaking  a  sign-language  as 
plain  as  print  and  twice  as  truthful.  So  the 
good  observer  goes  through  life  easily  and  accu- 
rately, with  few  mistakes  and  small  need  to  ask 
questions. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  would  you  mind  letting 
go  of  your  machine  a  moment?  " 

A  tricyclist,  dismounted,  is  trundling  his 
three-legged  steed  through  a  thick  patch  of  road. 
Two  women  of  the  well-dressed  class,  eying 
from  the  sidewalk  the  unusual  machine,  have, 
after  a  momentary  hesitation,  advanced  into  the 
road,  and  the  younger  has  spoken.  "  Would 
you  mind  letting  go  of  your  machine  a  moment?" 
The  request  is  unusual — as  unusual  as  the 
machine — and  puzzling  as  to  purpose;  but  a 
lady  has  requested  and  so — hands  off!  The 


Exercising  the  Mind  279 

liberated  steed  turns  his  head  slightly  towards 
his  fond  master,  then  quietly  comes  to  a  halt. 
"  There,  mother,  I  told  you  it  could,  and  you 
see  it  can!"  Then  to  Knickerbocker,  curious: 
"  This  lady  said  your  machine  couldn't  stand 
up  unless  you  held  it,  but  I  said  it  could  because 
it  has  three  wheels.  I  am  obliged  to  you."  * 

Three  points  of  contact,  a  broad  base  and 
a  tapering,  symmetrical  superstructure  —  facts 
equally  well  observed  by  two  minds ;  then  one  of 
the  minds  argues  can,  but  the  other  strangely 
insists  can't,  stand  up  alone! 

Here  is  an  example  of  the  second  step  in 
mental  exercise — reasoning.  The  sense-organs 
send  impressions  to  the  brain,  the  mind  takes 
cognizance  of  them  and  then  proceeds  to  draw 
conclusions,  more  or  less  right  or  wrong,  as  the 
example  shows. 

Conclusions  may  be  obvious  or  the  reverse. 
When  strikingly  plain,  the  reasoning  follows  so 
quickly  and  certainly  upon  the  observing  that 
the  two  operations  seem  but  as  one.  We  turn 
a  corner  upon  the  street  and  see  a  small  delicate 
handkerchief  lying  on  the  sidewalk.  Instantly 
we  look  ahead  for  the  woman  owner.  Here, 
though  hardly  appreciated,  has  been  a  process 
of  reasoning:  the  thing  would  not  be  where  it 
is  unless  dropped,  and  would  not  be  small  and 
dainty  unless  its  owner  were  of  the  fair  sex. 

*  A  true  incident  in  the  experience  of  the  writer. 


280  Exercising  the  Mind 

At  the  other  extreme  are  cases  where  the  proper 
conclusion  is  so  obscured  as  to  puzzle  even  long 
and  hard  thinking.  Hence  come  indecisions 
and  perplexities,  or  opposite  opinions,  with  dis- 
putes and  even  feuds. 

The  faculty  of  reasoning  is  the  highest  attri- 
bute of  that  highest  of  creations  known  to  us, 
the  human  intellect.  It  constitutes  the  dis- 
tinctive trait  of  the  mind  of  man,  enabling  its 
proud  possessor  to  do  what  is  impossible  for 
the  brute,  namely,  to  modify  his  environment, 
and  bring  all  belongings  of  earth — animal,  vege- 
table, and  mineral — under  his  sway,  to  be  utilized 
for  his  purpose. 

The  development  and  exercise  of  this  wonder- 
ful gift  constitute  not  only  a  privilege,  but  a 
duty,  for  every  sane  human  being.  Here,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  perceptive  faculty,  not  all 
are  endowed  alike.  There  is  the  clear-headed 
man,  who  reasons  always  carefully,  coolly,  and 
shrewdly,  and  there  is  the  "  rattle-brain  "  who 
"goes  off  at  half-cock " —who  talks  first  and 
thinks  afterwards,  often  to  his  sorrow. 

Because  of  the  close  alliance  of  the  two  facul- 
ties, severally,  of  observing  and  reasoning,  the 
two  commonly  go  together  in  endowment.  The 
bright  boy  that  naturally  observes  closely,  also 
reasons  straight ;  while  the  dull  boy  that  never 
"  sees  "  also  never  thinks.  By  the  same  token, 
as  the  power  of  observing  can  wonderfully  be 
developed  by  training  and  exercise,  so  also  can 


Exercising  the  Mind  281 

that  of  reasoning,  and  indeed  training  in  per- 
ception inevitably  trains  in  reasoning,  by  the 
very  act.  Also  the  two  faculties  develop  them- 
selves to  a  great  extent  under  the  stimulus  of 
necessity,  when  the  mind  is  thrown  on  its  own 
resources.  This  fact  should  be  applied  in  the 
rearing  of  children.  It  is  a  wise  parent  who,  in 
its  companionship  with  its  child,  leads  the 
youngster  to  do  his  own  thinking.  Instead  of 
giving  perfunctory  answers  to  the  incessant 
questions,  or,  worse,  administering  a  snubbing 
without  answer  at  all,  the  parent  should  bring 
the  little  seeker  after  knowledge  to  see  with 
his  own  eyes,  hear  with  his  own  ears,  and  rea- 
son with  his  own  wits.  Development  of  the 
mind  through  itself  and  by  itself  constitutes  a 
special  advantage  of  the  large  school  or  college. 
The  campus  of  boarding-school  or  university 
affords  a  miniature  world-arena  where  each 
gladiator  stands  or  falls  according  to  the  prowess 
of  the  sword  of  his  own  forging. 

The  reasoning  faculty,  properly  developed  in 
youth,  should  regularly  be  exercised  throughout 
life.  And  as  in  the  case  of  exercise  of  body, 
so  in  the  exercise  of  mind,  the  practice  brings 
its  own  reward  of  pleasure.  To  the  wise,  a 
problem  in  geometry  or  algebra  offers  greater 
interest  than  the  latest  novel,  and  chess  delights 
far  more  than  chatter. 

A  group  of  children  play  at  the  deserted  break- 


282  Exercising  the  Mind 

fast-table.  The  squat  tea-pot  is  a  hen,  and  the 
cups  her  chickens.  Lo,  a  snake!  and  a  spoon, 
bottom-up,  bearing  on  the  bowl  two  crumbs  of 
bread  for  eyes,  sways  stealthily  forward,  steered 
by  a  dumpy  finger  on  the  handle,  pressed  to 
the  table.  What  goes  on  in  those  intent  little 
heads?  Simple  as  seems  the  outcome,  in  those 
busy  brains  is  doing  a  wonderful  thing,  the  taking 
by  the  mind  of  conceptions  from  present  impres- 
sions and  from  past  memories,  combining  them, 
and  out  of  the  fusion  deriving  new  conceptions 
of  its  own  making.  This  feat  is  the  exercise  of 
imagination,  a  faculty  of  mind  perhaps  the  most 
marvellous  of  all. 

Imagination  underlies  all  original  thinking, 
and,  joined  with  critical  observation  and  reason- 
ing, gives  invention — the  magician  that  with  one 
wave  of  his  wand  transforms  a  lump  of  ore  into 
a  steam-engine,  and  with  another  makes  of  a 
roll  of  paper  a  tragedy  of  Hamlet. 

Far  more  than  in  the  case  of  observation  and 
reasoning  do  minds  differ  in  natural  endow- 
ment of  imagination,  and  far  less  is  the  faculty 
susceptible  of  cultivation.  It  is  the  faculty  of 
mind  that  preeminently  is  a  gift.  Yet  in  no 
one  is  it  wholly  lacking,  and  if  not  all  of  us 
can  be  Shakespeares  or  Beethovens,  Newtons  or 
Darwins,  each  can  at  least  burn  his  lamp  for 
such  light  as  it  may  be  capable  of  giving,  and 
not  hide  it  under  a  bushel.  One  who  forever 
takes  in,  and  never  gives  out,  deserves  contempt 


Exercising  the  Mind  283 

rather  than  credit  for  his  learning.  The  "  great 
reader  ",  the  "  scholar  ",  the  "  bookworm  ",  who 
absorbs  but  never  contributes,  of  what  use  is 
he  to  the  world?  Except  for  the  memory  of 
brilliant  conversations  vouchsafed  as  legacy  to 
a  chosen  few,  the  accumulated  lore  of  years 
perishes  off  the  earth  when  the  light  by  which 
it  was  gathered  is  quenched. 

For  those  whose  daily  routine  does  not  call 
for  intellectual  work,  an  excellent  habit  for  men- 
tal development  is  the  keeping  of  a  journal,  in 
which  to  jot  down  original  thoughts  on  the 
presentments  of  the  day.  The  requirement 
thus  to  record  thoughts  will  breed  thoughts,  and 
the  setting-down  will  crystallize  them.  By  such 
practice,  not  only  will  the  machinery  of  mind  be 
kept  from  rusting,*  but  ennui  will  be  a  thing 
unknown,  and  who  ever  can  tell  in  what  oyster 
may  not  be  found  a  pearl  of  genuine  worth? 

And  for  any  one,  playing  with  the  intellect 
makes  a  delightful  game  of  solitaire  for  spare 
minutes,  unique  in  that  it  can  be  played  at 
any  time  and  place.  And  it  is  astonishing 
how  much  can  be  accomplished  in  the  odd 
times  of  day.  Idyls  may  be  born  of  a  home- 
stretch on  the  street;  operettas,  of  trips  on 
trains;  and  books,  of  tours  awheel.  Thus  a 
substantial  pleasure  is  got  out  of  minutes  that 
otherwise  would  go  to  waste. 

*  A  brain  actively  used  is  less  liable  to  disease  than  is 
one  where  the  intellect  is  allowed  to  stagnate. 


284  Exercising  the  Mind 

One  well  trained  to  observing,  reasoning,  and 
thinking  has,  perforce,  an  opinion  of  his  own; 
and  having  the  opinion,  naturally  develops  the 
will  to  execute  it.  Mental  training  and  exer- 
cise thus  unconsciously  cultivate  that  most 
important  attribute  of  mind,  the  will-power. 

To  remember  what  was  for  dinner  yesterday 
seems  as  natural  as  the  dinner,  yet  is  the  act 
nearly  as  wonderful  as  one  of  imagination. 
Memory  and  imagination  are  allied,  in  that 
both  faculties  give  to  the  mind  the  marvellous 
power  to  conjure  up  images  of  its  own,  which 
then  it  views  nearly  as  vividly  as  if  they  were 
actual  present  impressions  on  eye  or  ear.  In 
the  case  of  imagination,  the  images  are  of  the 
mind's  own  fancy ;  with  memory,  they  are  purely 
reproductions  of  past  happenings. 

It  would  be  superfluous  to  descant  on  either  the 
usefulness  or  the  joy  of  possession  of  a  good 
memory.  It  needs  then  but  to  cheer  the  hearts 
of  those  who  have  not  the  endowment,  by  say- 
ing that  the  gift  is  still  within  reach.  For  while, 
as  usual  with  the  faculties,  memory  is  bestowed 
by  nature  to  very  different  degrees,  yet,  again 
as  usual,  it  is  very  susceptible  to  cultivation. 
By  exercise,  regular  and  systematic,  just  as  a 
flat  chest  can  be  made  full  or  a  skinny  arm  plump, 
so  can  a  poor  memory  be  made  over  into  a  ser- 
viceably  good  one.  An  effective  practice  is  the 
following:  A  bit  of  writing,  verse  at  first,  as 


Exercising  the  Mind  285 

being  easier  to  commit,  is  memorized  in  the 
morning  and  recited  in  the  evening.  Next 
morning  the  succeeding  stanza  or  paragraph  is 
committed,  but  in  the  evening  both  portions  are 
recited,  and  so  on  until  the  whole  poem  or 
essay  is  in  memory's  grasp.  Another  trick  is, 
on  returning  home  from  lecture-hall  or  church, 
to  write  down  an  abstract,  as  accurate  as  can  be 
remembered,  of  the  discourse.  As  in  all  cases 
of  exercise  for  development,  the  training  should 
be  undertaken  seriously  and  determinedly,  and 
then,  if  the  exercises  are  carried  out  faithfully, 
the  result  will  be  as  surprising  as  gratifying. 

"  I  wonder  what  I  did  with  my  hat!  "  "I 
wish  I  could  remember  where  I  left  my  parasol!  " 

The  phase  of  memory-failure  constituting  heed- 
lessness  is  very  common  with  persons  of  poor 
memory  generally,  but  also  occurs  where  the 
memory  is  good,  simply  as  a  vice  of  habit.  And 
in  this  latter  case,  if  truth  must  be  told,  it  is  all 
too  often  the  fault  of  the  mother!  For  heedless- 
ness  is  particularly  common  among  the  well- 
to-do,  all  from  lack  of  early  training  in  the  care 
of  self.  It  is  passing  strange  that  a  child  who 
in  later  years  is  to  have  the  responsibility  not 
only  of  self  but  of  others,  is  nevertheless  brought 
up  with  no  heed  whatever  of  domestic  duty. 
Nurses  care  for  the  clothing,  and  maids  "  clear 
up"  and  "put  away"  the  things  which  the 
spoiled  little  one  is  permitted  without  check  or 


286  Exercising  the  Mind 

hindrance  to  drop  or  toss  about  at  will.  So 
with  later  years  come  the  disorderly  college- 
room  or  boudoir,  the  lost  key  and  the  left  umbrella. 

For  one  in  the  grip  of  the  miserable  habit 
of  forget  fulness  and  disorderliness  (twin  vices, 
Siamese-linked),  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to 
turn  and  grapple  with  the  oppressor,  with  deter- 
mination to  overthrow.  The  struggle  will  be 
long  and  hard,  but  if  determination  be  there, 
it  will  win.  The  following  makes  a  serviceable 
trick  in  the  wrestling:  Acquire  the  habit  that 
whenever  hand  lays  anything  down,  even  if  it 
be  the  right  thing  in  the  right  place,  head  is 
to  bow  solemnly  to  the  thing,  while  tongue 
murmurs  sotto  voce,  ' '  Here  rest ! ' '  The  absurdity 
of  the  one  action  will  fix  the  other  upon  the 
attention,  and  thus  fix  time  and  place  upon  the 
memory. 

A  special  phase  of  forgetfulness  is  failure  in 
chance  duty  to  others.  This  fault,  especially 
to  be  seen  among  the  unmarried,  is  again  one 
of  early  training.  The  child  is  reared,  it  may 
be,  to  be  orderly  as  to  self,  but  never  is  put 
under  any  obligation  to  do  for  others.  So  it 
grows  up  to  the  habit  of  passive  selfishness, 
that  is,  to  intentness  on  self,  with  no  thought 
of  the  interests  of  others,  and  brings  into  married 
life,  with  its  interdependencies,  the  irritation  of 
the  unmailed  letter  or  the  missing  button,  miss- 
ing still.  Childhood  is  the  one  and  only  time 
for  the  easy  and  certain  forming  of  habits, 


Exercising  the  Mind  287 

physical  and  mental,  both.  Training  to  order- 
liness, to  responsibility  and  duty  both  to  self 
and  to  others,  always  should  be  a  fixed  pur- 
pose in  the  rearing  of  children.  The  child  should 
early  be  taught  to  dress  itself,  to  take  charge  of 
its  own  clothes  and  toys,  and  do  its  own  putting 
away.  Then  it  should  be  given  duties  to  others, 
such  as  occasional  charge  of  little  brother  or 
sister,  or  the  doing  of  some  simple  task  for  parent. 
So  will  it  grow  up  in  glad  obedience  to  "  heaven's 
first  law",  and  prove  a  comfort  instead  of  an 
exasperation  to  those  with  whom  it  may  come 
into  future  relation. 

Where  duties  are  multifarious — too  many  and 
too  important  to  trust  to  any  memory,  however 
good,  the  memorandum-pad  is  indispensable,  and 
it  is  strange  that  this  device  for  the  saving  of 
time,  trouble,  and  temper  is  not  more  used  in 
domestic  life.  By  its  means,  instead  of  a  dozen 
items  to  be  remembered,  there  is  but  one,  namely, 
the  pad  itself.  All  that  is  necessary  is  to  make 
the  pad  a  part  of  the  person,  and  to  form  the 
habit  of  consulting  its  friendly  pages  regularly, 
on  stated  occasions.  Then  the  pad  itself  does 
the  rest,  and  home  is  happy. 

A  smile  or  a  scowl;  a  pleasant  word  or  a 
snappy;  a  boon  or  a  snub — such  alternatives 
tell  of  another  aspect  of  mind,  that  of  being, 
as  contradistinguished  from  doing,  which  so  far 
alone  has  been  considered. 


288  Exercising  the  Mind 

There  is  with  every  one  a  constitutional  tem- 
perament, buoyant  or  anxious,  reckless  or  cau- 
tious, excitable  or  calm,  as  the  case  may  be, 
overlying  which  is  an  habitual  mental  attitude 
toward  life  and  the  world. 

Now  this  attitude,  is  it,  like  the  color  of  eyes 
and  hair,  a  matter  of  intrinsic  individuality, 
fixed  and  unalterable?  Let  two  observations 
make  answer.  Go  to  childhood,  where  expres- 
sion of  feeling  is  outspoken,  and  where  the  sub- 
ject has  had  small  chance  as  yet 

"...  to  suffer 
The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune.  " 

Watch  a  group  of  ragged  urchins  at  play — 
ragged  preferred  for  the  observation,  as  being  of 
the  sort  whose  demeanor  is  wholly  unartificial. 
Some  of  the  little  fellows  evidently  are  more 
excitable  than  others,  but  all  are  happy.  Give 
them  a  smile  and  get  back  a  grin ;  toss  them  a 
penny  and  hark  to  the  merry  shout  that  goes 
with  the  scramble !  If  there  is  one  sitting  apart 
and  peevish,  inquire, — and  elicit  quite  surely 
a  story  of  ill-health  or  of  ill-treatment. 

Next,  make  this  simple  experiment :  Standing 
before  a  mirror,  draw  down  the  mouth  and  scowl. 
Immediately  there  will  be  felt  a  disposition  to 
be  ugly — to  think  hard  thoughts  and  give  short 
answers.  Now  smooth  out  the  scowl,  uplift 
the  brows  strongly  and  smile.  Instantly  there 
comes  a  reversal  of  feeling — a  sense  of  joyous- 
ness  and  an  inclination  for  mirth. 


Exercising  the  Mind  289 

These  two  observations  show  that  naturally 
mental  attitude  is  cheerful — that  where  it  is 
otherwise  the  case  is  one  of  artificial  change, 
wrought  by  the  accident  of  circumstance,  and 
that  the  disposition  for  the  moment  can  be 
determined  by  so  simple  a  thing  as  assumption 
of  the  characteristic  expression  of  face. 

What  more  is  wanted  to  prove  that  attitude 
of  mind  is  just  what  we  may  choose  to  make  it — 
that  it  lies  wholly  within  ourselves  to  make  of 
ourselves,  for  ourselves,  and  for  others,  genuine 
blessings  through  well-ordered  cheerfulness,  kind- 
liness, thought  fulness,  and  courtesy,  or  curses, 
through  surliness,  selfishness,  and  general  bru- 
tality!* 

The  corollary  is  plain  enough :  cultivate  cheer- 
fulness and  cheer  will  come;  seem  serene  and 
serenity  will  fill  the  mind;  offer  courtesy,  and 
kindliness  will  creep  into  the  heart.  There  is 
never  honest  excuse  for  a  disagreeable  bearing 
or  for  bad  manners. 

"  You'll  be  sorry  for  this  when  your  anger 
cools!"  "Oh,  it's  just  her  jealousy."  "You 

*  The  fact  that  mental  attitude  can  be  determined  by 
will  gives  to  the  physician  a  remedial  agent  of  wonderful 
power  for  use  in  so-called  functional  nervous  disease.  Gain- 
ing his  patient's  confidence,  the  physician  can,  by  hypnotic 
suggestion  or  by  shrewd  appeal  without  hypnotism,  lead 
the  subject  himself  to  modify  his  mentality — to  assume  the 
mental  pose  of  health.  Then,  if  organic  change  do  not 
bar  the  way,  health  accepts  the  invitation,  and  returns 
forthwith  to  resume  its  proper  post  of  control. 


290  Exercising  the  Mind 

think  her  pretty?  You  must  be  in  love  with 
her!"  "Ask  him  what  we  had  better  do;  he 
doesn't  seem  afraid."  "  She  is  utterly  pros- 
trated; the  shock  has  been  too  much  for  her." 

Analysis  of  familiar  phrases  such  as  these 
shows  another  feature  in  mentality — distrac- 
tion. Strong  impressions  are  received  from  with- 
out, exciting  within  the  mind  a  commotion,  of 
character  corresponding  to  the  nature  of  the 
impression;  and  such  commotion,  according  to 
its  intensity,  deranges  or  wholly  upsets  the 
natural  play  of  the  faculties,  and  reacts  upon 
the  general  system,  producing  more  or  less  ner- 
vous shock,  and  in  severe  cases  even  death. 

Commotion  of  mind  from  outside  influence 
is  passion;  and  the  different  styles  of  com- 
motion constitute  the  passions.  Many  of  the 
passions  are  abhorrent — anger,  jealousy,  envy, 
hate;  some  are  depressing — fear  and  grief;  and 
others  are  enlivening  or  uplifting — joy,  hope, 
love,  reverence. 

But  no  matter  what  its  character,  any  passion, 
by  its  very  nature  as  passion,  operates  as  a 
disturber  of  serenity.  Passion  and  reason,  then, 
are  mental  incompatibles — natural  enemies,  as 
are  the  burglar  and  the  policeman ;  and  for  the 
same  reason.  As  the  one  dominates,  so  by  the 
very  measure  of  the  domination  is  the  other 
subdued.  The  incompatibility  in  question  is 
seen  strikingly  in  the  mental  derangement  ac- 
companying narcotic  intoxication,  as  wrought. 


Exercising  the  Mind  291 

by  alcohol,  ether,  or  "  laughing-gas  ".  In  the 
early  stage,  before  general  stupefaction,  there 
is  an  irritation  of  the  emotional  side  of  men- 
tality, at  the  same  time  that  there  is,  from  the 
very  start,  depression  of  the  rational.  But 
different  subjects  give  very  different  outward 
showings  of  this  mental  disturbance.  With  some, 
there  is  a  violent  display  of  passion,  combative 
or  hilarious  according  to  the  habit  of  mind; 
while  with  others  the  showing  is  slight  or  even 
altogether  absent.  And,  as  a  rule,  the  lower 
the  subject  in.  the  walks  of  life,  the  more  pro- 
nounced the  emotional  outburst — a  fact  which 
means  simply  that  the  less  the  intellectual  develop- 
ment, the  stronger  the  sway  of  passion.  Nar- 
cotic intoxication  thus  operates  curiously  as  a 
practical  test  of  habitual  control  over  the  pas- 
sions. Subjects  differ  as  greatly  in  natural 
susceptibility  to  passion  as  in  endowment  of 
imagination;  and,  by  a  natural  coordination,  it 
is  the  imaginative  temperament  that  also  is 
the  passionate. 

Since  reason  and  passion  are  irreconcilables, 
reason  must  be  master  if  it  would  not  be  slave. 
And  this  means  that  a  standard  item  of  men- 
tal exercise  must  be  the  establishing  and  main- 
taining of  control  over  the  passions.  But  while 
it  is  recognized  universally  that  severe  repres- 
sion is  the  proper  treatment  for  emotion  from 
an  abhorrent  passion,  indulgence  is  not  only 
permitted,  but  approved,  in  the  case  of  the 


292  Exercising  the  Mind 

passions  that  uplift.  Yet  right  here  many  a 
mistake  is  made.  Passion  is  passion,  and  emotion 
prejudices  judgment  and  warps  reason,  no  mat- 
ter from  what  passion  it  may  spring.  As  a 
talesman  is  challenged  for  jury  duty  because  of 
hate,  so  does  a  physician  wisely  decline,  because 
of  love,  to  treat  a  child  of  his  own  for  serious 
disease.  Similarly  any  passion  whatever,  in- 
dulged habitually  to  the  point  of  strong  emotion, 
is  weakening  to  the  mind  and  exhausting  to 
the  body,  by  the  exact  measure  of  the  emotion. 
Thus  art  is  a  form  of  emotion,  and  excessive 
indulgence  in  its  gratification  tends  to  the  usual 
effect  upon  mentality.  Musicians,  painters,  poets, 
actors,  and  other  devotees  of  art  are  notoriously 
unpractical,  excitable,  and  emotional  generally. 
Passionate  devotion  to  music,  the  most  emotional 
of  the  arts,  may  be  positively  pernicious  to 
health.  The  phrase  "  drunk  on  music  "  is  all 
too  often  true  to  the  physiological  fact.  No 
matter,  then,  what  the  passion,  be  it  even  so 
beautiful  a  one  as  love  or  reverence,  repression 
of  indulgence,  within  the  bounds  of  reason,  is 
a  proper  general  rule  of  mental  hygiene. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
SLEEPING   AND   WAKING 

O  sleep !  it  is  a  gentle  thing, 
Beloved  from  pole  to  pole! 

— COLERIDGE 
Health  that  snuffs  the  morning  air 

— JAMES  GRAINGER 

MAN,  despite  his  habits  since  Prometheus 
brought  him  flame,  is,  by  nature,  a  diurnal  ani- 
mal, and,  for  the  diurnal  animal,  day  is  for  waking 
and  night  for  sleeping.  But  the  habitat  of  man 
ranges  over  the  whole  of  the  habitable  globe, 
and  within  that  range  the  duration  of  day  and 
night,  respectively,  varies  greatly  according  to 
latitude  and  season.  Man's  sleeping  and  waking 
life,  therefore,  cannot  be  ordered  by  the  rising 
and  the  setting  of  the  sun,  but  must  be  more  or 
less  arbitrary.  Common  experience  seems  to 
show  that,  as  a  general  rule  for  adults,  sixteen 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  should  be  for  waking, 
and  the  other  eight  for  sleeping. 

But,  as  usual,  the  matter  does  not  permit  of 
a  hard  and  fast  rule.  The  need  for  sleep  varies, 
first,  with  age,  the  new-born  infant  waking  only 
to  take  nourishment,  while  the  nonagenarian 

293 


294  Sleeping  and  Waking 

wakes  eighteen,  nineteen,  or  even  twenty  hours 
out  of  the  twenty-four;  secondly,  with  the  sea- 
son, the  long  nights  of  winter  conducing  natu- 
rally to  long  sleep;  thirdly,  with  the  activity 
of  the  life,  the  man  with  the  pick  needing  more 
sleep  than  the  foreman  standing  idly  by,  the 
author  more  than  his  amanuensis ;  and,  fourthly, 
with  individual  idiosyncrasy.  This  last-named 
factor  in  variation  is  a  genuine  one,  and  should 
be  respected;  and  the  parent,  boastful  of  early 
waking,  who  forces  a  "lazy"  child  from  bed 
before  nature  has  opened  the  eyes,  is  a  brute 
as  well  as  a  braggart.  There  is  the  story  of  a 
great  commander  who  invariably  took  his  nap 
just  before  going  into  action;  and  of  a  great 
physician,  a  man  of  extraordinary  achievement, 
who  would  excuse  himself  in  the  midst  of  an 
engagement,  drop  anywhere,  on  lounge  or  easy- 
chair,  for  a  ten-minute  snooze,  and  then,  waking 
bright,  resume  work  with  more  ardor  than  ever. 
In  general,  brain-workers  need  a  full  quota  of 
sleep. 

The  hours  for  sleeping  should  be  laid  within 
the  hours  of  darkness.  Such  placing  accords 
with  instinct,  with  common  sense,  and  with  com- 
mon experience.  Sleep  is  not  all  the  same. 
There  is  the  first  sleep,  profound  and  dream- 
less; then,  with  turnings  in  bed  and  dreams, 
the  slumber  lightens;  then  succeeds  a  delicious 
half-sleep,  when  the  mind  wanders  off  and  on 
from  the  highway  of  waking  to  the  bordering 


Sleeping  and  Waking  295 

groves  of  dreamland,  and  then  at  last,  with 
lifting  of  eyelids,  waking  is  full. 

Now  profound  sleep  requires  rest  for  the 
nerves  of  sense,  that  the  slumbering  brain  shall 
not  be  teased  by  the  ringing  of  the  cerebral 
telephone-bell  to  take  messages  of  feeling,  sight, 
or  hearing  from  disturbed  sense-organs,  ever  on 
the  alert.  Darkness,  quiet,  and  absence  of  jar 
are,  then,  standard  requirements  for  perfect 
slumber,  and  these  conditions,  with  proper  ven- 
tilation of  the  bedroom,  can  be  secured  only  at 
night.  Proper  ventilation  means  more  or  less 
open  windows;  open  windows  after  dawn  mean 
light  and  noise,  and  light  and  noise  mean  dis- 
turbance of  slumber. 

Daytime  sleep,  therefore,  never  is,  because  it 
never  can  be,  the  same  as  sleep  by  night.  Those 
whose  occupations  require  the  turning  of  night 
into  day,  and  so  of  day  into  night,  tell  that 
their  repose  by  day,  even  though  the  hours  be 
plenty,  does  not  give  the  refreshment  of  natural, 
nocturnal  sleep. 

And  the  charm  of  early  morn!  Those  who 
know  it  not,  know  not  of  it  and  would  laugh 
it  to  scorn ;  but  they  who  do  know  it,  know  it 
to  be  true,  and  being  true,  to  be  also  beautiful 
and  good.  The  season  matters  not:  by  the 
white  of  January  or  by  the  waving  green  of 
June,  it  is  the  same — the  touch  of  rosy-fingered 
dawn  that  makes  of  earth  a  fairyland  before  the 
mounting  chariot  of  Phcebus  marshals  it  to  toil. 


296  Sleeping  and  Waking 

In  the  long  nights  of  winter  there  is  latitude 
in  the  placing  of  bedtime;  for  the  night  will 
outrun  the  eight  hours  wanted  for  sleep.  But 
in  the  short  nights  of  summer,  unless  curfew 
ring  at  nine  o'clock,  chanticleer  will  surprise 
the  moulder  of  dreams  before  his  task  be  done. 

Sleep  should  be  sleep  and  not  drug-coma. 
If  a  good  day's  work,  with  proper  exercise,  a 
clear  conscience,  an  untroubled  mind,  a  dark, 
silent,  and  airy  chamber,  and  a  glass  of  milk, 
do  not  woo  the  drowsy  god,  there  is  something 
wrong,  for  which  a  physician,  and  not  a  self- 
prescribed  whiskey-bottle  or  pill-box,  should  be 
consulted.  Insomnia  is,  of  course,  a  symptom, 
and  not  a  disease.  And,  as  a  symptom,  it 
accompanies  a  long  list  of  most  incongruous 
disorders.  Of  causes  other  than  actual  disease, 
the  most  common  are  overfatigue,  physical  or 
mental,  anxiety,  empty  stomach,  and  cold  feet. 
For  overfatigue,  "don't  overwork",  and  for 
anxiety,  "  don't  worry",  are  the  respective  cures, 
often  exasperating  enough  in  the  prescription 
when  the  work  or  the  worry  is  inevitable.  The 
complaining  stomach,  which  especially  troubles 
the  burner  of  the  midnight  oil,  is  easily  appeased 
by  a  light  snack  before  retiring — a  glass  of  milk 
or  a  few  biscuits  with  an  egg.  To  make  a  regu- 
lar meal,  is  to  make  a  mistake.  In  the  case  of 
cold  feet,  the  members  should  be  thoroughly 
warmed  before  getting  into  bed,  night-wear  and 
bed-sheets  should  be  of  wool  rather  than  of 


Sleeping  and  Waking  297 

cotton  or  linen,  and  the  night-robe  should  be 
long,  so  that  it  will  tuck  under  and  around  the 
feet  when  knees  are  bent  in  bed.  Then  over 
the  feet  should  be  an  extra  fold  or  two  of  blanket. 
Waking  should  be  natural.  Waking  by  force  is 
force,  and  like  all  dominion  by  force  is  some- 
thing rough,  cruel,  and  justly  ^provocative  of 
rebellion.  When  eyelids  do  not  lift  of  their 
own  accord  at  some  required  hour,  let  dominion 
be  exercised  at  the  other  end  of  the  night — 
persuade  into  bed,  not  force  out  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
WORKING   AND   PLAYING 

Man  hath  his  daily  work  of  body  and  mind 
Appointed  — MILTON 

From  labor  there  shall  come  forth  rest 

— LONGFELLOW 

TOIL  is  the  watchword  of  animate  existence. 
From  the  microscopic  animalcule  to  the  giant 
whale,  all  animals  must  toil  to  gain  their  food 
and  avoid  their  enemies.  Without  toil  there 
would  be  neither  development  nor  progress,  and 
man  would  be  unknown  on  earth. 

And  the  watchword  of  toil  itself  is  thoroughness. 
The  saying  is  as  true  as  it  is  trite,  that  whatever 
is  worth  doing  at  all  is  worth  doing  well.  Along- 
side of  the  word  task,  the  words  time  and  trouble 
have  no  proper  place.  If,  after  counting  the 
cost,  a  task  is  accepted,  let  it  be  undertaken; 
once  undertaken,  let  it  proceed,  and  time  and 
trouble  be  reckoned  simply  as  incidents  of  the 
doing,  and  never  as  considerations  for  the  undoing. 

This  rule  should  apply  to  the  trivial  under- 
taking, the  same  as  to  the  mighty.  When  once 

the   habit   is   formed   of  prompt  and  thorough 

298 


Working  and  Playing  299 

doing,  with  never  a  thought  of  retreat,  the 
secret  of  success  is  found. 

Effective  work  requires  three  things  of  the 
doer.  First,  a  trained  mind  or  hand.  Secondly, 
concentration: — it  is  possible  to  do  two  things 
at  once,  if  one  be  a  matter  of  automatic  routine, 
such  as  walking  or  riding,  and,  indeed,  the 
mind  often  works  best  under  the  exhilaration  of 
locomotion  outdoors.  But  if  the  two  tasks  both 
require  attention,  then  to  be  done  well,  each 
must  be  done  separately.  A  pianist  can  play 
some  familiar  piece  while  also  conversing,  but 
the  playing  will  be  perfunctory  and  expression- 
less. To  play  with  the  soul  in  the  music,  tongue 
must  be  silent  and  mind  undisturbed  at  its 
task. 

The  third  requirement  is  a  fresh  brain  or  hand. 
The  worker  with  steel  halts  when  the  tool  is 
dull,  nor  will  use  it  again  till  sharpened;  the 
worker  with  brain  or  sinew  must  do  exactly 
the  same.  Shut  the  book;  put  away  the  pen, 
and  betake  to  cane  or  couch  according  to  the 
hour.  Then,  after  walk  or  sleep,  of  itself  will 
the  knot  loosen,  or  the  puzzle-pieces  drop  into 
place. 

Comparatively  little  of  man's  achievement  on 
earth  is  the  work  of  genius.  Genius  has,  indeed, 
seriously  been  dubbed  a  phase  of  insanity,  even 
of  degeneration!  The  substantial  work  of  man's 
record  has  been  done  by  good  but  not  extraor- 
dinary minds,  working  simply  under  the  three 


300  Working  and  Playing 

requirements  just  presented.  Given  a  fair  mind, 
thoroughly  trained  as  a  thinking  machine;  a 
well-nourished  brain  worked  only  when  in  good 
condition,  and  the  habit  and  opportunity  of 
concentration,  and  far  better  work  will  be  turned 
out  than  by  a  brilliant  mind,  untrained  either 
to  observation  or  application,  and  working  under 
the  handicap  of  fatigue,  distraction,  or  stress. 

"Doctor,  have  a  tow?" 

"  No,  thank  you." 

The  professional  skipper  sails  on,  lost  in 
wonder  at  the  city  lunatic  that  comes  to  the 
seaside  and  persists  in  rowing  when  he  might 
take  a  tow  and  be  saved  the  labor.  But  the 
lunatic  is  not  so  crazy  as  he  seems:  his  work 
is  at  a  desk,  so  he  takes  his  play  at  the  -oar. 
Were  his  work  at  the  oar,  doubtless  he  would, 
like  the  professional  boatman,  take  his  play  at 
a  table  over  a  newspaper  or  a  backgammon- 
board. 

It  is  simply  a  fact  of  physiology  that,  over 
and  above  necessary  repose,  there  is  needed 
for  tired  muscle,  or  brain  either,  rest  in  the  shape 
of  other  work  that  shall  be  a  something  at  once 
utterly  dissimilar  to  the  regular  work,  pleasur- 
able to  the  individual,  and  itself  not  overfatiguing. 
Such  restful  work  is  play. 

At  once  it  is  plain  that,  as  in  the  illustrative 
example,  what  is  one  man's  work  may  be  another's 
play,  and  vice  versa.  But  the  necessity  for  play 


Working  and  Playing  301 

cannot  be  gainsaid:  for  it  is  founded  on  physio- 
logical rock.  A  fatigued  muscle  regains  its 
vigor  quicker  by  massage  than  by  a  splint:  a 
tired  brain  sooner  by  diversion  than  by  star- 
gazing. So  long  as  man  must  work,  so  long 
also  must  he  play. 

In  this  matter,  however,  the  nature  of  the 
regular  work  makes  an  enormous  difference. 
There  is  work  that  is  all  work,  and  there  is  work 
that  is  half  play.  In  the  one  case,  the  work  is 
a  dull,  grinding  monotony — a  drudgery  whose 
confessed  purpose  is  nothing  higher  than  a  bal- 
ance at  the  bank;  while  in  the  other,  the  work 
is  a  pursuit  of  intrinsic  interest  that  yields 
delight  along  with  its  dollars.  A  worker  of  the 
former  kind  needs  his  play  imperatively;  but 
one  of  the  latter  sort  gets  his  play  very  largely 
in  his  work  itself.  So  comes  it  about  that,  with- 
out proper  diversion,  the  harassed  business- 
man breaks  down,  while  the  professor  preaches 
serenely  along,  hale  and  happy  through  the 
tallying  years. 

He  whose  work  is  play  is  not  at  serious  risk 
if,  in  his  enthusiasm,  he  gives  to  it  even  long 
hours;  but  he  whose  work  is  work  should  have  a 
care.  For  such  a  one,  the  threshold  of  his 
home  should  ever  be  to  his  business  as  a  castle- 
moat,  with  drawbridge  up  and  portcullis  down — 
a  dividing  line  that  may  not  be  passed.  When 
the  office-day  is  over,  no  black  bag  with  papers; 
but  an  hour,  at  least,  beneath  heaven's  blue, 


302  Working  and  Playing 

and  then,  dinner  done,  play.  And  for  the  brain- 
worker,  evening  play  should  be  something  men- 
tally active,  something  that  will  both  interest 
and  occupy  the  mind — some  game,  some  fad, 
some  devotion  to  a  muse  or  apprenticeship  to 
Hephaistos.  Within  the  wide  range  of  litera- 
ture, science,  art,  or  mechanics,  surely  may  be 
found  some  pursuit  congenial  to  taste.  Let, 
then,  the  evening  lamp  shine  on  cabinet,  desk, 
or  microscope-table,  on  pen,  pencil,  or  piano — 

"And  the  night  shall  be  filled  with  music, 

And  the  cares  that  infest  the  day 
Shall  fold  their  tents,  like  the  Arabs, 
And  as  silently  steal  away.  " 


CHAPTER  XV 
LIVING   AND   DYING 

So  may'st  thou  live,  till  like  ripe  fruit  thou  drop 
Into  thy  mother's  lap  — MILTON 

SLAUGHTER  or  old  age,  one  or  the  other,  is 
nature's  provision  for  the  ending  of  life.  Yes, 
slaughter;  for,  shocking  though  the  thought 
may  be,  in  the  inscrutable  scheme  for  the  cos- 
mos it  is  ordered  that  one  thing  shall  prey  upon 
another.  So  the  soil  absorbs  the  snowflake,  and 
the  herb  absorbs  the  soil ;  the  ox  rends  the  herb, 
and  the  tiger  rends  the  ox;  the  elephant  rips 
the  tiger,  and  then  yields  his  victorious  tusk 
to  the  magic  of  that  arch-victor,  man. 

Nor  does  man  himself  escape  the  doom.  True 
that  by  his  intelligence  he  shuns  or  defeats  the 
rough  violence  of  visible  foes;  but  the  very 
mode  of  life  that  by  his  intelligence  he  has  or- 
dered for  himself,  has  in  turn  brought  into  being 
hosts  of  new  and  subtle  enemies  to  prey  upon 
man's  estate,  none  the  less  potent  for  that  they 
are  unseen.  The  child  that  succumbs  to  the 
swift  inroads  of  the  armies  of  diphtheria,  or 
the  adult  that  yields  his  life  to  the  slower  ravages 

303 


304  Living  and  Dying 

of  the  tuberculosis-swarms,  is  just  as  much  a 
victim  of  slaughter  as  is  the  kid  whose  back  is 
broken  by  the  crush  of  a  lion's  paw. 

These  noiseless,  viewless  enemies,  then,  born 
of  the  house  and  the  hall,  the  church,  the  street, 
and  the  car,  that,  like  a  coiled  snake  in  the  grass 
or  a  couched  tiger  in  the  jungle,  lie  in  wait  for 
unsuspecting  man,  how  can  they  be  defeated? 
Broadly  answered,  the  reply  is,  when  the  battle 
is  on,  consult  a  physician,  but  to  decline  battle, 
consult  common-sense. 

There  is  a  picture  whose  title  is  "  Peace  ", 
but  whose  subject  is  a  mighty  battle-ship  alert 
with  all  the  panoply  of  war.  So,  to  oppose 
disease,  make  strong  the  citadel,  that  the  enemy 
may  pass  by  without  assault,  or,  assaulting, 
easily  be  hurled  back  from  the  battlements. 
The  cult  of  the  rosy-cheeked  goddess,  then} 
besides  its  gift  of  the  joy  of  being,  armors  its 
disciple  against  the  shafts  of  disease. 

But  not  against  all;  moreover,  the  best  coat 
of  mail  may  have  a  faulty  link,  or  may  rust 
and  loosen  by  age.  So  far,  then,  as  can  be  done 
without  a  cowardly  shirking  of  life's  duties,  the 
avoiding  of  disease  should  be  a  practical  con- 
sideration in  life,  even  in  the  case  of  the  robust. 

As  already  hinted,  a  certain  large  proportion 
of  the  ills  that  afflict  mankind  are  the  direct 
offspring  of  the  civilized  life.  They  are  the 
diseases  of  herding  and  of  domiciling,  and  their 
avoidance  means,  theoretically,  simply  the  com- 


Living  and  Dying  305 

plete  avoidance  of  man  in  his  gregarious  aspect! 
For  possibility  of  danger  lurks  in  flies  and  mosqui- 
toes; in  exposed  raw  foods  obtained  from  the 
neighborhood  of  human  habitations,  such  as 
berries,  lettuce,  celery,  raw  oysters,  and  even 
raw  milk;  in  strange  drinking-waters,  drinking- 
cups,  towels  or  beds ;  in  hostelries,  public  places, 
public  conveyances,  public  gatherings,  and  even 
public  streets! 

A  formidable  list,  whose  dangers  can  fully  be 
shunned  only  by  a  Robinson  Crusoe!  Unless, 
then,  man  is  again  to  be  a  nomad  savage,  he 
must  expect  to  face  some  risk  of  the  ills  engen- 
dered by  his  very  mode  of  life.  He  can  no  more 
hope  wholly  to  dodge  disease-germs  than  to 
dodge  lightning.  He  can,  however, — and  that 
is  the  present  point, — avoid  unnecessary  exposure, 
by  an  intelligent  understanding  of  where  danger 
lurks,  on  the  same  principle  that,  knowing  the 
ways  of  electricity,  he  will  not,  in  a  thunder- 
storm, seek  shelter  under  a  lone,  tall  tree. 

Increase  of  years  brings  decrease  of  power  to 
resist  outside  influences.  Fortunately,  however, 
age  brings  also  lessening  demands  upon  the 
breadwinner.  The  "  many  to  keep  "  now  keep 
themselves;  so  that  with  the  peeping  of  silver 
hairs  may  come  a  lessening  of  toil,  and  more 
than  ever  a  shunning  of  unnecessary  exposures. 
Yet  despite  this  truism,  on  every  hand  are  to 
be  found  graybeards  still  at  it,  at  it,  at  it,  the 


306  Living  and  Dying 

same  as  when  twenty  years  younger.  The 
grizzled  politician  still  reeks  through  a  mid- 
summer night  of  an  unadjourned  convention 
session;  the  veteran  wit  and  orator  still  dares 
the  snows  of  January  for  his  accustomed  place  as 
pride  of  the  platform  or  pet  of  the  banquet-hall. 
With  the  voyage  of  life  nearing  the  last  bend 
in  the  stream,  what  folly  unnecessarily  to  risk 
the  running  of  dangerous  rapids !  How  wiser  far, 
accepting  the  inevitable,  to  steer  silently  for 
that  safer  passage  where  smooth  flow  the  waters 
in  the  gold  of  the  setting  sun! 

To  him  who  is  as  wise  as  fortunate,  and  as 
fortunate  as  wise,  conies  nature's  alternate  and 
serener  ordering — the  simple  falling  of  the  leaf 
in  the  fullness  of  its  autumn  day.  And  as  for 
him  who  passeth  thus  there  is  no  pang  of  body, 
so  for  those,  his  dear  ones,  who  must  tarry  yet 
awhile,  should  there  be  no  pang  of  mind.  In 
the  purity  of  flame,  let  be  purified  that  which 
was  mortal;  and  then  with  ashes  returned  to 
ashes  the  summons  is  fulfilled. 

THE  SILENT  SUMMONER 

It  is  the  silent  summoner 

Hath  come  at  droop  of  day 
To  touch  with  fateful  finger  one, 

And  beckon  him  away. 

And  he,  our  loved  one,  straightway  hath 

The  head  obedient  bowed, 
And  even  so  hath  passed  from  us 

As  passeth  a  summer  cloud. 


Living  and  Dying  307 

O  messenger  of  mystery, 

Whose  summons  soon  or  late 
Each  thing  that  boasteth  breath  or  bloom 

Must  meet  in  full  of  fate, 

Teach  us  to  know  thee  as  thou  art, 

The  silent  friend  supreme 
Who  bringeth  us  at  droop  of  day 

The  peace  of  perfect  dream! 


INDEX. 


Acetylene,  163 

Air,  physical  facts  concern- 
ing. 7 

Alcohol,  effects  of  upon  the 

system,  135 
food-action  of,  142 

Albuminoids,  40 

Alimentation,  49 

Animal  foods,  general  char- 
acteristics, 91 

Anopheles  mosquito,  26 

Anstie-limit  for  daily  alcohol 
ration,  145 

Ardent  spirits,  147 

Arrowroot  ,113 

Artificial  respiration,  34 

Ashes,  disposal  of,  231 

Astigmatism,  175 


B 


Bacteria,  as  nature's  scaven- 
gers, 213 
Baldness,  209 
Baths,  cold,  204 

hot,  205 

Russian,  205 

Turkish,  206 

sea,  206 

Beautifiers  of  the  complex- 
ion, 208 
Beets,  in 
Bifocal  glasses,  176 
Biscuits,  109 
Body-fat,  47 
Bowels,  function  of,  229 
Boxing  upon  the  ear,  189 
Bread,  107 


Breathing,    proper    method 

of,  262 

Breathing  organs,  27 
Butter,  100 
Buttermilk,  99 


Caffeine,  157 

Carbohydrates,  54 

Carbolic  acid,  242 

Carbon  dioxide  in  exhaled 
air,  i 

Carriage  of  the  body,  262 

Carrots,  in 

Catarrh,  30 

Cereals,  104 

Cesspools,  228 

Champagne,  149 

Chapping  of  the  hands,  208 

Cheese,  101 

Chewing,  85 

Chittenden,  Prof.  Russell  H., 
experiments  in  alimen- 
tation by,  76 

Chlorinated  preparations, 
242 

Chlorine,  as  disinfectant,  241 

Chloroform,  159 

Chocolate,  114 

Cider,  150 

Cigarette-smoking,  157 

Circulating  proteid,  46 

Clothing,  thickness  of,  196 
wool  for,  191 

Cocaine,  159 

Cocoa,  159 

Coffee,  157 

Condensed  food,  90 

309 


310 


Index 


Condensed  milk,  99 
Copper  sulphate  as  disinfec- 
tant, 245 

Cornaro,  Louis,  case  of,  73 
Cornea,    fault   of   curvature, 

X75 

Corrosive  sublimate  as  dis- 
infectant, 241 

Corsets,  201 

Cotton  in  the  ear,  189 

Crabs,  95 

Cracks  of  the  finger-ends,  208 

Cream,  99 

Cremation,  232 

Crystalline  lens,  172 

Cupric  sulphate  as  disin- 
fectant, 245 

Cycling,  255 

D 

Daylight,  161 
Dead,  disposal  of  the,  231 
Dextrose,  55 
Dietaries,  89 
Din,  185 
Dipping,  157 
Disinfectants,  237 
Disinfecting,  248 
Disinfection,  236 
Diving,  189 
Ducks,  95 

Dyspeptics,  skipping  meals 
by,  66 

E 

Ear,  wax  in  the,  186 
how  to  syringe  the,  186 
insects  in  the,  187 
foreign  bodies  in  the,  87 
cotton  in  the,  189 
boring  the,  189 
boxing  upon  the,  189 
lifting  by  the,  189 
frostbite  of  the,  189 

Earth-closet,  227 

Eating,  times  for,  88 

Egg,  10 1 

Ether,  159 


Extract,  Liebig's,  92 
Eye,    as    an    optical    instru- 
ment, 171 

optical  faults  of,  173 

care  of  the,  180 

washes  for  the,  182 

motes  in  the,  183 

F 

Failure  of  breathing,  33 
Far-sightedness,  175 
Fats,  40 

digestion  of,  52 

fuel-value  of,  52 

food- value  of,  52 

effect  on  cooking  on,  53! 

subject  of  idiosyncrasy,  53 
Feet,  as  food,  94 
Fencing,  254 
Filters,  126 
Fireplaces,  13 
Fish,  95 

Fletcher,  Horace,  case  of,  75 
Foods,  animal,  91 

vegetable,  103 
Foodstuffs,  39 
Foreign  bodies  in  the  ear,  187 

in  the  eye,  183 
Formaldehyde,  238 
Formalin,  239 

Fresh  air,  as  disinfectant,  238 
Frostbite,  189 
Fruits,  112 
Fungi,  113 
Furnaces,  20 


Game-birds,  94 
Garbage,  disposal  of,  230 
Gas-logs,  14 
Gelatin,  96 

digestion      and     assimila- 
tion of,  51 
Geese,  95 
Glycogen,  56 
Golf,  255 
Gymnasium,  252 
Gymnastics,  home,  258 


Index 


311 


H 

Hair,  bleaching  of,  210 

toilet  of,  208 
Hair-dyes,  210 
Hats.  198 
Heads,  as  food,  94 
Heart,  as  food,  94 
Heat,  as  disinfectant,  238 
Heating,  methods  of,  19 

principles  of,  19 
Heedlessness,  285 
Hemp,  159 
Home -gymnastics,  258 

exercises  for,  268 
Honey,  1 14 
Horseback-riding,  255 
Hot-air  furnaces,  20 
Hot-water  pipes,  21 
House-drainage,  218 
House-drain,  219 
House-warming,  219 
Humidity,  22 
Hypermetropia,  175 
Hyperopia,  175 


Imagination,  282 
Insects  in  the  ear,  187 
Invention,  282 
Iritis,  182 

K 

Kephir,  100 
Kidney,  as  food,  94 
Knee-breeches,  197 
Koumyss,  100 


Leaves  and  stalks,  1 1  r 
Levulose,  55 
Licbig,  theory  of,  61 
Licbig's  extract,  92 
Lifting  by  the  ears,  189 
Lights,  artificial,  inadequacy 

of,  162 
vitiation   of  air  by,    162 


Lights,  quality  of,  165 
sufficiency  of,  167 
proper  position   of,    168 
steadiness  of,  169 
number  of,  170 

Lime,  247 

Linen  shirts,  196 

Liqueurs,  148 

Liver,  as  food,  94 

Lobster,  95 


M 

Malt  liquors,  151 
Mantle  gas-lamps,  163 
Margarine,  101 
Massage,  260 
Matzoon,  100 
Meals,  number  of,  88 

times  for,  88 

as  a  ceremony,  91 
Meats,  butcher's,  92 
Memory,  284 
Mental  attitude,  288 
Mercuric  chloride,    as    disin- 
fectant, 241 
Milk,  96, 

condensed,  99 
Morphine,  159 
Motes  in  the  eye,  183 
Mouth-breathing,  28 
Myopia,  173 


N 

Near-sightedness,  173 
Nicotine,  156 
Night-air,  24 
Nitrogeneous  food-principles, 

4* 

Non-nitrogeneous  food-prin- 
ciples, 41 

oxidation  of,  45 

digestion    and    absorption 
of,  51 

effects  of  insufficiency  of, 

65 

Nose-breathing.  *8 


312 


Index 


O 

Old-si  ghtedness,  172 
Oleomargarine,  101 
Onions,  in 
Open  fires,  20 

Organic     eftluvium     in     ex- 
haled air,  3 
Overfeeding,  67 
Overshoes,  200 
Oysters,  95 


Paddling,  256 

Parsnips,  in 

Passion,  290 

Passive  selfishness,  286 

Pasteur-Chamberland    filter, 
126 

Pasteurization  of  milk,  98 

Perception,  276 

Permanganate  of  potassium, 
244 

Perry,  150 

Play,  300 

Plumbing  fixtures,  222 

Potable  waters,  constituents 
of,  118 

Potassium       permanganate, 
244 

Potato,  no 

Poultry,  94 

Presbyopia,  172 

Prismatic  glasses,  176 

Proteids,  40 

disintegration  of,  44 
digestion    and    absorption 

of,  49 
influence  on  temperament, 

.      5° 

effects  of  insufficiency  of, 
64 

effects  of  excess  of,    70 

proper  allowance  of,  8 1 
Protruding  paunch,  265 
Pulses,  the,  no 
Putrefaction,  215 

R 

Reasoning,  279 


Refractive  errors,  symptoms 

of,  178 

Regularity  in  eating,  67 
Rowing,  256 
Running,  256 


Sago,  113 

Scuttles,  12 

Sewerage,   system  for,   223 

Shoes,  198 

Skating,  256 

Skim-milk,  99 

Skylights,  12 

Soap,  207 

Soil-pipe,  219 

Sparring,  254 

Spirits,  ardent,  147 

Squint,  179 

Starches,  40 

Steam-pipes,  21 

Story  of  nutrition,  41 

Subsurface    irrigation,    sew- 
erage by,  226 

Sugar,  conversion  into  glyco- 

gen,  56 

poisoning  by,  57 
preparation  of,  113 

Sugars,  40 

Sugars  and    starches,    diges- 
tion of,  54 

Sulphur  dioxide,  239 

Summoner,  The  Silent,  306 

Sunshine,  as  disinfectant,  238 

Surface-irrigation,    sewerage 
by,  226 

Sweetbread,  94 

Swimming,  257 

Syringing  the  ear,  186 


Tapioca,  113 

Tea,  157 

Teeth,  care  of,  86 

caries  of,  86 
Temperament,  288 
Tennis,  255 
Tobacco,  effects  of,  152 


Index 


Tomato,  112 
Trousers,  197 
Tubers,  no 
Turnips,  in 

U 

Underfeeding,  64 
Upholstery,  7 
Urea,  44 


Vegetable  foods,  103 
Vegetarianism,  82 
Ventilating  shafts,  13 
Ventilation,  principles  of,  9 
Ventilators,  17 


W 

Walking,  256 

Waring   systems    for   sewer- 
age, 227 

Water,  per  cent  of,  in  the 

body,  115 

contamination  of,  119 
purification  of,  123 

Waters,    potable,    constitu- 
ents of,  118 

Wax  in  the  ear,  186 

Wells,  120 

Welsbach  lamp,  163 

Wheat,  105 

Windows,  18 

Wine,  148 

Wool  for  clothing,  191 


THE  AMERICAN  NATURE  SERIES 

In  the  hope  of  doing  something  toward  furnishing  a  series  where 
the  nature-lover  can  surely  find  a  readable  book  of  high  authority, 
the  publishers  of  the  American  Science  Series  have  begun  the  publi- 
cation of  the  American  Nature  Series.  It  is  the  intention  that  in  its 
own  way,  the  new  series  shall  stand  on  a  par  with  its  famous  prede- 
cessor. 

The  primary  object  of  the  new  series  is  to  answer  questions 
which  the  contemplation  of  Nature  is  constantly  arousing  in  the 
mind  of  the  unscientific  intelligent  person.  But  a  collateral  object 
will  be  to  give  some  intelligent  notion  of  the  "causes  of  things." 

While  the  cooperation  of  foreign  scholars  will  not  be  declined, 
the  books  will  be  under  the  guarantee  of  American  experts,  and  gen- 
erally from  the  American  point  of  view;  and  where  material  crowds 
space,  preference  will  be  given  to  American  facts  over  others  of  not 
more  than  equal  interest. 

The  series  will  be  in  six  divisions  : 

I.    NATURAL  HISTORY 

This  division  will  consist  of  two  sections. 

Section  A.  A  large  popular  Natural  History  in  several  vol- 
umes, with  the  topics  treated  in  due  proportion,  by  authors  of  un- 
questioned authority.  8vo.  7^xlOj  in. 

The  books  so  far  publisht  in  this  section  are: 
FISHES,  by  DAVID  STARR  JORDAN,  President  of  the  Leland  Stanford 

Junior  University.     $6.00  net;  carriage  extra. 
AMERICAN  INSECTS,  by  VERNON  L.  KELLOGG,  Professor  in  the 

Leland  Stanford  Junior  University.     $5.00  net;  carriage  extra. 

Anangedfor  are: 

SEEDLESS  PLANTS,  by  GEORGE  T.  MOORE,  Head  of  Department 
of  Botany,  Marine  Biological  Laboratory,  assisted  by  other  spe- 
cialists. 

WILD  MAMMALS  OF  NORTH  AMERICA,  by  C.  HART  MER- 
Ki  AM,  Chief  of  the  United  States  Biological  Survey. 

BIRDS  OF  THE  WORLD.  A  popular  account  by  FRANK  H. 
KNOWLTON,  M.S.,  Ph.D.,  Member  American  Ornithologists 
Union,  President  Biological  Society  of  Washington,  etc.,  etc. 

1 


AMERICAN    NATURE    SERIES      (Continued) 

with  Chapter  on  Anatomy  of  Birds  by  FREDEKIC  A.  LUCAS, 
Chief  Curator  Brooklyn  Museum  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  and  edited 
by  ROBERT  RIOGWAY,  Curator  of  Birds,  U.  S.  National  Museum. 

REPTILES  AND  BATRACHIANS,  by  LEOXHARD  STEJXEGEH,  Cura- 
tor of  Reptiles,  U.  S.  National  Museum. 

Section  B.  A  Shorter  Natural  History,  mainly  by  the  Authors 
of  Section  A,  preserving  its  popular  character,  its  proportional  treat- 
ment, and  its  authority  so  far  as  that  can  be  preserved  without  its 
fullness.  Size  not  yet  determined. 

II.    CLASSIFICATION  OF  NATURE 

1.  Library  Series,  very  full  descriptions.     8vo.     T^xlOj  in. 

Already  publisht: 
NORTH  AMERICAN  TREES,  by  N.  L.  BRITTOM,  Director  of  the 

New  York  Botanical  Garden.     $7.00  net;  carriage  extra. 
FERNS,  by  CAMPBELL   E.   WATERS,  of  Johns   Hopkins  University 

8vo,  pp.  xi+362.     $3.00  net;  by  mail,  $3.30. 

2.  Pocket  Series,  Identification  Books — "  How  to  Know,"  brief  and 

in  portable  shape. 

III.    FUNCTIONS   OF  NATURE 

These  books  will  treat  of  the  relation  of  facts  to  causes  and 
effects— of  heredity  and  the  relations  of  organism  to  environment. 
8vo.  6|x8i  in. 

Already  publisht: 
THE  BIRD :  ITS   FORM   AND  FUNCTION,  by  C.   W.   BEEBE, 

Curator  of  Birds  in  the  New  York  Zoological  Park.  8vo,  496  pp. 

$3.50  net;  by  mail,  $3.80. 

Arranged  for: 
THE  INSECT :    ITS     FORM   AND   FUNCTION,  by  VERNON  L. 

KKI.I.OGG,  Professor  in  the  Leland  Stanford  Junior  University. 

THE  FISH:  ITS  FORM  AND  FUNCTION,  by  H.  M.  SMITH,  of 

the  U.  S.  Bureau  of  Fisheries. 


AMERICAN     NATURE    SERIES     (Continued) 

IV.    WORKING  WITH  NATURE 

How  to  propagate,  develop,  care  for  and  depict  the  plants  and 
animals.  The  volumes  in  this  group  cover  such  a  range  of  subjects 
that  it  is  impracticable  to  make  them  of  uniform  size. 

Already  publisht: 
NATURE  AND  HEALTH,  by  EDWARD  CURTIS,  Professor  Emeritus 

in  the  College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons.     12mo.     $1.25  net; 

by  mail,  $1.37. 
THE  FRESHWATER  AQUARIUM   AND   ITS   INHABITANTS. 

A  Guide  for  the  Amateur    Aquarist,    by    OTTO    EGGELING   and 

FREDERICK  EHRENBERG.  Large  12mo.  $2.00  net;  by  mail,  $2.19. 
THE  LIFE  OF  A  FOSSIL  HUNTER,  by  CHARLES  H.  STERNBERG. 

A  r  ranged  for; 

PHOTOGRAPHING  NATURE,  by  E.  R.  SANBORN,  Photographer 
of  the  New  York  Zoological  Park. 

THE  SHELLFISH  INDUSTRIES,  by  JAMES  L.  KELLOGG,  Professor 
in  Williams  College. 

CHEMISTRY  OF  DAILY  LIFE,  by  HENRY  P.  TALBOT,  Professor 
of  Chemistry  in  the  Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology. 

DOMESTIC  ANIMALS,  by  WILLIAM  H.  BREWER,  Professor  Emeri- 
tus in  Yale  University. 

THE  CARE  OF  TREES  IN  LAWN,  STREET  AND  PARK,  by 
B.  E.  FERNOW,  Professor  of  Forestry,  University  of  Toronto. 

V.    DIVERSIONS    FROM  NATURE 

This  division  will  include  a  wide  range  of  writings  not  rigidly 
systematic  or  formal,  but  written  only  by  authorities  of  standing. 
Large  12mo.  5jx8£  in. 

Already  publisht: 

INSECT  STORIES,  by  VERNON  L.  KELLOGG.  $1.50net;  by  mail,$1.62. 
FISH  STORIES,  by  CHARLES  F.  HOLDER  and  DAVID  STARR  JORDAN- 

Arranged  for: 

HORSE  TALK,  by  WH.LIAM  H.  BREWER. 
BIRD  NOTES,  by  C.  W.  BEEBE. 

VI.    THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  NATURE 

A  Series  of  volumes  by  President  JORDAN,  of  Stanford  Univer- 
sity, and  Professors  BROOKS  of  Johns  Hopkins,  LULL  of  Yale,  THOJI- 
SON  of  Aberdeen,  PRZIBRAM  of  Austria,  zuii  STRASSEN  of  Germany, 
and  others.  Edited  by  Professor  KELLOGG  of  Leland  Stanford.  12mo. 

5|x7£  in. 

HENRY    HOLT    AND    COMPANY,    NEW  YORK 

JANUARY,  '09. 

3 


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